Have His Carcase (34 page)

you could do anything you liked with
me
.’

‘You mustn’t talk like that.’

‘Mustn’t I? Can’t help it. You’ve got a way with you – haven’t you, eh?’

Harriet wished that he would not say ‘eh?’ so often. And she disliked the

grossness of his voice and the coarseness of his skin and the little tufts of hair in

his ears.

‘Don’t drive with one hand like that – suppose anything came along

suddenly.’

Henry laughed and patted her leg again.

‘That’s al right, don’t you worry. I’l look after you, and you’l look after

me, eh? Aliance, offensive and defensive – just between you and me, eh?’

‘Oh, rather!’

‘That’s fine. And when al this stupid business is over, you must come and

look Mother and me up. She’s taken a great fancy to you. Get her to bring you

along to my place. You’d like it. What about it?’

‘That would be lovely!’ (If Henry wanted to be vamped, she would vamp

him.) ‘One gets so tired of the kind of men one meets in London, and the stuffy,

restricted, literary kind of surroundings. I don’t suppose you ever come to

London, Mr Weldon?’

‘Not often. Don’t care for the place.’

‘Oh! Then it’s no good asking you to cal on me.’

‘Isn’t it, though? Of course I’d come and cal on you like a shot. Some

inducement, eh? Where do you live?’

‘I’ve got a little flat in Bloomsbury.’

‘Al on your own?’

‘Yes.’

‘Isn’t that a bit lonesome?’

‘Oh! wel, of course I have plenty of friends. And a woman who comes in

for the day. I could give you tea if you cared to come along some time to cheer

me up.’

‘That would be sweet of you. We could go and do a show together or

something.’

‘I should enjoy that.’

No – Henry was realy too easy. Surely even his colossal vanity could not

suppose that he had realy made a conquest. Yet there he sat, smiling away and

almost audibly purring. No doubt he thought that Harriet Vane was any man’s

game. He realy imagined that, placed between Lord Peter and himself, a

woman could possibly – wel, why not? How was he to know? It wouldn’t be

the first time that a woman had made a foolish choice. If anything, he was

paying her the compliment of supposing that she was not mercenary. Or, horrid

thought, did he expect her to be completely promiscuous?

That was it – he did! He was informing her now, in reasonably plain

language, that somebody like himself would be a nice change for her and that he

couldn’t make out what a fine woman like herself could see in a felow like

Wimsey. Rage rendered her speechless for a moment; then she began to feel

amused. If he thought that, he could be made to believe anything. She could

twist men round her little finger, could she? Then she would twist
him
. She

would fool him to the top of his bent.

She begged him not to talk so loudly; Mrs Weldon would overhear him.

This reminder had its effect, and Henry ‘behaved himself’ until their arrival at

the spot selected for the picnic compeled him to return to his former attitude of

ordinary politeness.

The picnic itself passed off without any remarkable incident, and Henry did

not succeed in getting Harriet to himself until the meal was over and they went

to wash up the plates in a little brook that ran close by. Even then, Harriet was

able to avoid his advances by sending him to do the washing while she stood by

with a dish-cloth. She ordered him about prettily and he obeyed with delighted

wilingness, tucking up his sleeves and getting down to the job. However, the

inevitable moment arrived when he returned with the clean plates and put them

into her hands. Then, seizing his opportunity, he advanced upon her and

clasped her with clumsy galantry about the body. She dropped the plates and

wriggled, pushing his arms away and bending her head down, so that the faithful

and long-suffering hat was between them.

‘Damn it!’ said Henry. ‘You might let a felow –’

It was then that Harriet became realy frightened. She gave a scream which

was no mockery, but a realy determined yel, and folowed it up with a box on

the ear that was no butterfly kiss. Henry, astonished, relaxed his grasp for a

moment. She broke away from him – and at that moment Mrs Weldon,

attracted by the scream, came running to the top of the bank.

‘Whatever is the matter?’

‘I saw a snake!’ said Harriet, wildly. ‘I’m sure it was a viper.’

She screamed again, and so did Mrs Weldon who was terrified of snakes.

Henry, grunting, picked up the falen plates and told his mother not to be sily.

‘Come back to the car,’ said Mrs Weldon. ‘I won’t stay another moment in

this horrid place.’

They went back to the car. Henry looked glum and injured; he felt that he

had been badly treated, as indeed he had. But Harriet’s face was white enough

to show that she had had a real shock, and she insisted on returning in the back

of the car with Mrs Weldon, who made a great fuss over her with a smeling-

bottle and ejaculations of horror and sympathy.

When they got back to Wilvercombe, Harriet was sufficiently recovered to

thank Henry properly and apologise for having been so stupid. But she was stil

not quite herself, refused to come in to the hotel and insisted on walking back to

her room at Mrs Lefranc’s. She would not alow Henry to go with her – she

wouldn’t hear of it – she was quite al right – the walk would do her good.

Henry, who was stil offended, did not press the point. Harriet walked away,

but not to Mrs Lefranc’s. She hastened to the nearest telephone-cabinet and

rang up the Belevue. Was Lord Peter Wimsey there? No, he was out; could

they take a message? Yes. Would he please come round and see Miss Vane at

once, the minute he came in? It was frightfuly urgent. Certainly they would tel

him. No, they would not forget.

Harriet went home, sat down on Paul Alexis’ chair and stared at Paul Alexis’

ikon. She realy felt quite upset.

She had sat there for an hour, without removing her hat and gloves – just

thinking, when there was a commotion on the staircase. Feet came up two

steps at a time and the door burst open so hard upon the preliminary knock as

to make the knock superfluous.

‘Hulo-ulo-ulo! Here we al are. What’s up? Anything exciting? So sorry I

was out – Here! I say! Hold up! It’s al right, you know – at least, it
is
al right,

isn’t it?’

He gently extricated his arm from Harriet’s frenzied grasp and shut the door.

‘Now then! My dear, what’s happened? You’re al of a doodah!’

‘Peter! I believe I’ve been kissed by a murderer.’

‘Have you? Wel, it serves you right for letting anybody kiss you but me.

Good Heavens! You raise al sorts of objections to a perfectly amiable and

reasonably virtuous man like myself, and the next thing I hear is that you are

walowing in the disgusting embraces of a murderer. Upon my soul! I don’t

know what the modern girl is coming to.’

‘He didn’t actualy kiss me – he only hugged me.’

‘That’s what I said – I said “disgusting embraces”. And what is worse, you

send urgent messages to my hotel, so that you can get me here to be gloated

over. It is abominable. It is repulsive. Sit down. Take off that vulgar and idiotic

hat and tel me who this low-down, bone-headed, bird-witted, dissipated

murderer is who can’t even keep his mind on his murdering, but rushes about

the country embracing and hugging painted-faced females that don’t belong to

him.’

‘Very wel. Prepare for a shock. It was Haviland Martin.’

‘Haviland Martin?’

‘Haviland Martin.’

Wimsey walked very deliberately to a table near the window, laid down his

hat and stick upon it, drew forward a chair, placed Harriet in it, drew up a

second chair, sat down in it himself, and said:

‘You win. I am astonished. I am thunderstruck. Kindly explain yourself. I

thought you were out this afternoon with the Weldons.’

‘I was.’

‘Am I to understand that Haviland Martin is a friend of Henry Weldon’s?’

‘Haviland Martin is Henry Weldon.’

‘You have been walowing in the embraces of Henry Weldon?’

‘Only in the interests of justice. Besides, I boxed his ears.’

‘Go on. Begin from the beginning.’

Harriet began from the beginning. Wimsey bore fairly wel the story of the

vamping of Henry Weldon, merely interjecting that he hoped the man wouldn’t

make himself a nuisance later on, and listened patiently til she came to the

incident of the plate-washing.

‘I was sort of wriggling – because I didn’t want him actualy to kiss me, you

know – and I looked down and saw his arm – it was round my waist, you

understand –’

‘Yes, I grasped that.’

‘And I saw a snake tattooed al the way up his arm – just as it was up

Martin’s. And then I suddenly remembered how his face had seemed kind of

familiar when I first saw him – and then I realised who he was.’

‘Did you tel him so?’

‘No. I just yeled, and Mrs Weldon came up and asked what was the

matter. So I said I’d seen a snake – it was the only thing I could think of; and of

course it was true.’

‘What did Henry say?’

‘Nothing. He was rather grumpy. Of course, he thought I was just making a

fuss about his kissing me, only he couldn’t tel his mother that.’

‘No – but do you suppose he put two and two together?’

‘I don’t
think
he did. I hope not.’

‘
I
hope not – or he may have bolted.’

‘I know. I ought to have stuck to him like glue. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t,

Peter. Honestly, I was frightened. It was sily, but I
saw
Alexis with his throat

cut and the blood running al over the place – it was horrible. And the idea that

– ugh!’

‘Wait a moment. Let’s think this thing out. You’re sure you aren’t mistaken

about the snake and that Weldon realy
is
Martin?’

‘Yes. I’m sure he is. I can see it perfectly now. His profile’s the same, now I

come to think of it, and his height and size, and his voice too. The hair’s

different, of course, but he could easily have dyed that.’

‘So he could. And his hair looks as if it had been dyed recently, for the

matter of that, and re-bleached. I thought it looked funny and dead. Wel, if

Weldon is Martin, there’s undoubtedly some funny business somewhere. But

Harriet, do put it out of your mind that he’s a murderer. We’ve proved that

Martin couldn’t possibly have done it. He couldn’t get to the place in time. Had

you forgotten that?’

‘Yes – I believe I had forgotten it. It seemed so obvious, somehow, that if he

was there at Darley, in disguise, he must have been up to something or other.’

‘Of course he was up to something or other. But what? He couldn’t be in

two places at once, even if he was disguised at Beelzebub.’

‘No, he couldn’t – could he? Oh, what an idiot I am! I’ve been sitting here

having the horrors, and wondering how in the world we could ever break it to

Mrs Weldon.’

‘We may have to do that in any case, I’m afraid,’ said Wimsey, gravely. ‘It

looks very much as if he had some hand in it, even if he didn’t do the throat-

cutting part of it. The only thing is, if he wasn’t the actual murderer, why was he

at Darley at al?’

‘Goodness knows!’

‘Something do do with the bay mare, that’s a certainty. But what? What was

the point of the bay mare at al? It beats me, Harriet; it beats me.’

‘So it does me.’

‘Wel, there’s only one thing to do.’

‘What’s that?’

‘To ask him.’

‘Ask him?’

‘Yes. We’l ask him. It’s just conceivable that there’s some innocent

explanation of the thing. And if we ask him about it, he’l have to commit himself

one way or another.’

‘Ye-es. That means open warfare.’

‘Not necessarily. We needn’t tel him al we suspect. I think you’d better

leave this to me.’

‘I rather think I had. I’m afraid I haven’t handled Henry as wel as I thought I

was going to.’

‘I don’t know. You’ve got hold of a pretty valuable piece of information,

anyhow. Don’t worry. We’l turn friend Henry inside-out before we’ve done

with him. I’l just pop round to the Resplendent now, and see that he hasn’t

taken alarm.’

He popped round accordingly, only to find that Henry, so far from bolting,

was dining and playing Bridge with a party of other residents. Should he break

in on them with his question? Or should he wait? Better wait, perhaps, and let

the matter crop up quietly in conversation the next morning. He made a private

arrangement with the night porter to give him the tip if Mr Weldon showed any

signs of departing during the night, and retired to his own quarters to do some

hard thinking.

XIX

THE EVIDENCE OF THE DISGUISED MOTORIST

‘Confess, or to the dungeon –

Pause!’

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