Had a look inside; electric torch, said Lord Peter. Handy little gadget. Looks like a matchbox. Well I daresay its all right, but I just draw your attention to it. Second point: Gentleman with hair smellin of Parma violet and manicured hands and all the rest of it, never washes the inside of his ears. Full of wax. Nasty.
Youve got me there, Wimsey; I never noticed it. Still old bad habits die hard.
Right oh! Put it down at that. Third point: Gentleman with the manicure and the brilliantine and all the rest of it suffers from fleas.
By Jove, youre right! Flea-bites. It never occurred to me.
No doubt about it, old son. The marks were faint and old, but unmistakable.
Of course, now you mention it. Still, that might happen to anybody. I loosed a whopper in the best hotel in Lincoln the week before last. I hope it bit the next occupier!
Oh, all these things might happen to anybody separately. Fourth point: Gentleman who uses Parma violet for his hair, etc., etc., washes his body in strong carbolic soap so strong that the smell hangs about twenty-four hours later.
Carbolic to get rid of the fleas.
I will say for you, Parker, youve an answer for everything. Fifth point: Carefully got-up gentleman, with manicured, though masticated, finger-nails, has filthy black toe-nails which look as if they hadnt been cut for years.
All of a piece with habits as indicated.
Yes, I know, but such habits! Now, sixth and last point: This gentleman with the intermittently gentlemanly habits arrives in the middle of a pouring wet night, and apparently through the window, when he has already been twenty-four hours dead, and lies down quietly in Mr. Thippss bath, unseasonably dressed in a pair of pince-nez. Not a hair on his head is ruffled the hair has been cut so recently that there are quite a number of little short hairs stuck on his neck and the sides of the bath and he has shaved so recently that there is a line of dried soap on his cheek
Wimsey!
Wait a minute and dried soap in his mouth.
Bunter got up and appeared suddenly at the detectives elbow, the respectful man-servant all over.
A little more brandy, sir? he murmured.
Wimsey, said Parker, you are making me feel cold all over. He emptied his glass stared at it as though he were surprised to find it empty, set it down, got up, walked across to the bookcase, turned round, stood with his back against it and said:
Look here, Wimsey youve been reading detective stories; youre talking nonsense.
No, I aint, said Lord Peter, sleepily, uncommon good incident for a detective story, though, what? Bunter, well write one, and you shall illustrate it with photographs.
Soap in his Rubbish!said Parker. It was something else some discoloration
No, said Lord Peter, there were hairs as well. Bristly ones. He had a beard.
He took his watch from his pocket, and drew out a couple of longish, stiff hairs, which he had imprisoned between the inner and the outer case.
Parker turned them over once or twice in his fingers, looked at them close to the light, examined them with a lens, handed them to the impassible Bunter, and said:
Do you mean to tell me, Wimsey, that any man alive would he laughed harshly shave off his beard with his mouth open, and then go and get killed with his mouth full of hairs? Youre mad.
I dont tell you so, said Wimsey. You policemen are all alike only one idea in your skulls. Blest if I can make out why youre ever appointed. He was shaved after he was dead. Pretty, aint it? Uncommonly jolly little job for the barber, what? Here, sit down, man, and dont be an ass, stumpin about the room like that. Worse things happen in war. This is only a blinkin old shillin shocker. But Ill tell you what, Parker, were up against a criminal the criminal the real artist and blighter with imagination real, artistic, finished stuff. Im enjoyin this, Parker.
Chapter III
Lord Peter finished a Scarlatti sonata, and sat looking thoughtfully at his own hands. The fingers were long and muscular, with wide, flat joints and square tips. When he was playing, his rather hard grey eyes softened, and his long, indeterminate mouth hardened in compensation. At no other time had he any pretensions to good looks, and at all times he was spoilt by a long, narrow chin, and a long, receding forehead, accentuated by the brushed-back sleekness of his tow-coloured hair. Labour papers, softening down the chin, caricatured him as a typical aristocrat.
Thats a wonderful instrument, said Parker.
It aint so bad, said Lord Peter, but Scarlatti wants a harpsichord. Pianos too modern all thrills and overtones. No good for our job, Parker. Have you come to any conclusion?
The man in the bath, said Parker, methodically, was not a well-off man careful of his personal appearance. He was a labouring man, unemployed, but who had only recently lost his employment. He had been tramping about looking for a job when he met with his end. Somebody killed him and washed him and scented him and shaved him in order to disguise him, and put him into Thippss bath without leaving a trace. Conclusion: the murderer was a powerful man, since he killed him with a single blow on the neck, a man of cool head and masterly intellect, since he did all that ghastly business without leaving a mark, a man of wealth and refinement, since he had all the apparatus of an elegant toilet handy, and a man of bizarre, and almost perverted imagination, as is shown in the two horrible touches of putting the body in the bath and of adorning it with a pair of pince-nez.
He is a poet of crime, said Wimsey. By the way, your difficulty about the pince-nez is cleared up. Obviously, the pince-nez never belonged to the body.
That only makes a fresh puzzle. One cant suppose the murderer left them in that obliging manner as a clue to his own identity.
We can hardly suppose that; Im afraid this man possessed what most criminals lack a sense of humour.
Rather macabre humour.
True. But a man who can afford to be humorous at all in such circumstances is a terrible fellow. I wonder what he did with the body between the murder and depositing it chez Thipps. Then there are more questions. How did he get it there? And why? Was it brought in at the door, as Sugg of our heart suggests? or through the window, as we think, on the not very adequate testimony of a smudge on the window-sill? Had the murderer accomplices? Is little Thipps really in it, or the girl? It dont do to put the notion out of court merely because Sugg inclines to it. Even idiots occasionally speak the truth accidentally. If not, why was Thipps selected for such an abominable practical joke? Has anybody got a grudge against Thipps? Who are the people in the other flats? We must find out that. Does Thipps play the piano at midnight over their heads or damage the reputation of the staircase by bringing home dubiously respectable ladies? Are there unsuccessful architects thirsting for his blood? Damn it all, Parker, there must be a motive somewhere. Cant have a crime without a motive, you know.
A madman suggested Parker, doubtfully.
With a deuced lot of method in his madness. He hasnt made a mistake not one, unless leaving hairs in the corpses mouth can be called a mistake. Well, anyhow, its not Levy youre right there. I say, old thing, neither your man nor mine has left much clue to go upon, has he? And there dont seem to be any motives knockin about, either. And we seem to be two suits of clothes short in last nights work. Sir Reuben makes tracks without so much as a fig-leaf, and a mysterious individual turns up with a pince-nez, which is quite useless for purposes of decency. Dash it all! If only I had some good excuse for takin up this body case officially
The telephone bell rang. The silent Bunter, whom the other two had almost forgotten, padded across to it.
Its an elderly lady, my lord, he said. I think shes deaf I cant make her hear anything, but shes asking for your lordship.
Lord Peter seized the receiver, and yelled into it a Hullo!that might have cracked the vulcanite. He listened for some minutes with an incredulous smile, which gradually broadened into a grin of delight. At length he screamed: All right! all right!several times, and rang off.
By Jove!he announced, beaming, sportin old bird! Its old Mrs. Thipps. Deaf as a post. Never used the phone before. But determined. Perfect Napoleon. The incomparable Sugg has made a discovery and arrested little Thipps. Old lady abandoned in the flat. Thippss last shriek to her: Tell Lord Peter Wimsey. Old girl undaunted. Wrestles with telephone book. Wakes up the people at the exchange. Wont take no for an answer (not bein able to hear it), gets through, says: Will I do what I can? Says she would feel safe in the hands of a real gentleman. Oh, Parker, Parker! I could kiss her, I reely could, as Thipps says. Ill write to her instead no, hang it, Parker, well go round. Bunter, get your infernal machine and the magnesium. I say, well all go into partnership pool the two cases and work em out together. You shall see my body tonight, Parker, and Ill look for your wandering Jew tomorrow. I feel so happy, I shall explode. O Sugg, Sugg, how art thou suggified! Bunter, my shoes. I say, Parker, I suppose yours are rubber-soled. Not? Tut, tut, you mustnt go out like that. Well lend you a pair. Gloves? Here. My stick, my torch, the lampblack, the forceps, knife, pill-boxes all complete?
Certainly, my lord.
Oh, Bunter, dont look so offended. I mean no harm. I believe in you, I trust you what money have I got? Thatll do. I knew a man once, Parker, who let a world-famous poisoner slip through his fingers because the machine on the Underground took nothing but pennies. There was a queue at the booking office and the man at the barrier stopped him, and while they were arguing about accepting a five-pound-note (which was all he had) for a twopenny ride to Baker Street, the criminal had sprung into a Circle train, and was next heard of in Constantinople, disguised as an elderly Church of England clergyman touring with his niece. Are we all ready? Go!
They stepped out, Bunter carefully switching off the lights behind them.
As they emerged into the gloom and gleam of Piccadilly, Wimsey stopped short with a little exclamation.
Wait a second, he said. Ive thought of something. If Suggs there hell make trouble. I must short-circuit him.
He ran back, and the other two men employed the few minutes of his absence in capturing a taxi.
Inspector Sugg and a subordinate Cerberus were on guard at 59, Queen Caroline Mansions, and showed no disposition to admit unofficial inquirers. Parker, indeed, they could not easily turn away, but Lord Peter found himself confronted with a surly manner and what Lord Beaconsfield described as a masterly inactivity. It was in vain that Lord Peter pleaded that he had been retained by Mrs. Thipps on behalf of her son.
Retained!said Inspector Sugg, with a snort. Shell be retained if she doesnt look out. Shouldnt wonder if she wasnt in it herself, only shes so deaf, shes no good for anything at all.
Look here, Inspector, said Lord Peter, whats the use of bein so bally obstructive? Youd much better let me in you know Ill get there in the end. Dash it all, its not as if I was takin the bread out of your childrens mouths. Nobody paid me for finding Lord Attenburys emeralds for you.
Its my duty to keep out the public, said Inspector Sugg, morosely, and its going to stay out.
I never said anything about your keeping out of the public, said Lord Peter, easily, sitting down on the staircase to thrash the matter out comfortably, though Ive no doubt pussyfoots a good thing, on principle, if not exaggerated. The golden mean, Sugg, as Aristotle says, keeps you from bein a golden ass. Ever been a golden ass, Sugg? I have. It would take a whole rose-garden to cure me, Sugg
Im not going to stay any longer talking to you, said the harassed Sugg; its bad enough Hullo, drat that telephone. Here, Cawthorn, go and see what it is, if that old catamaran will let you into the room. Shutting herself up there and screaming, said the Inspector, its enough to make a man give up crime and take to hedging and ditching.
The constable came back:
Its from the Yard, sir, he said, coughing apologetically; the Chief says every facility is to be given to Lord Peter Wimsey, sir. Um!He stood apart noncommittally, glazing his eyes.
Five aces, said Lord Peter, cheerfully. The Chiefs a dear friend of my mothers. No go, Sugg, its no good buckin; youve got a full house. Im goin to make it a bit fuller.
He walked in with his followers.
The body had been removed a few hours previously, and when the bathroom and the whole flat had been explored by the naked eye and the camera of the competent Bunter, it became evident that the real problem of the household was old Mrs. Thipps. Her son and servant had both been removed, and it appeared that they had no friends in town, beyond a few business acquaintances of Thippss, whose very addresses the old lady did not know. The other flats in the building were occupied respectively by a family of seven, at present departed to winter abroad, an elderly Indian colonel of ferocious manners, who lived alone with an Indian man-servant, and a highly respectable family on the third floor, whom the disturbance over their heads had outraged to the last degree. The husband, indeed, when appealed to by Lord Peter, showed a little human weakness, but Mrs. Appledore, appearing suddenly in a warm dressing-gown, extricated him from the difficulties into which he was carelessly wandering.
I am sorry, she said, Im afraid we cant interfere in any way. This is a very unpleasant business, Mr. Im afraid I didnt catch your name, and we have always found it better not to be mixed up with the police. Of course, if the Thippses are innocent, and I am sure I hope they are, it is very unfortunate for them, but I must say that the circumstances seem to me most suspicious, and to Theophilus too, and I should not like to have it said that we had assisted murderers. We might even be supposed to be accessories. Of course you are young, Mr.
This is Lord Peter Wimsey, my dear, said Theophilus mildly.
She was unimpressed.
Ah, yes, she said, I believe you are distantly related to my late cousin, the Bishop of Carisbrooke. Poor man! He was always being taken in by impostors; he died without ever learning any better. I imagine you take after him, Lord Peter.
I doubt it, said Lord Peter. So far as I know he is only a connection, though its a wise child that knows its own father. I congratulate you, dear lady, on takin after the other side of the family. Youll forgive my buttin in upon you like this in the middle of the night, though, as you say, its all in the family, and Im sure Im very much obliged to you, and for permittin me to admire that awfully fetchin thing youve got on. Now, dont you worry, Mr. Appledore. Im thinkin the best thing I can do is to trundle the old lady down to my mother and take her out of your way, otherwise you might be findin your Christian feelins gettin the better of you some fine day, and theres nothin like Christian feelins for upsettin a mans domestic comfort. Good-night, sir good-night, dear lady its simply rippin of you to let me drop in like this.
Well!said Mrs. Appledore, as the door closed behind him.
And
I thank the goodness and the grace