Have His Carcase (41 page)

the murderer, he would not want the body lost. He would want his mother to

know that Alexis was dead. Yes; but under ordinary circumstances the body

would have turned up sooner. It was the violent south-west wind and the three

hundred sovereigns that had combined to keep the body hidden. And the body

had been found, even so. Wel, then. If Harriet had not found the body when

she did, there would have been nothing to show that the death had not occurred

earlier – say between 11 and 1.30 – the period for which there was the alibi. In

fact, the victim’s arrival at that early hour at Darley Halt made it look much

more likely that the earlier hour was the right one. Why should you tempt your

victim to a lonely spot at 11.30 a.m. and then wait two and a half hours before

polishing him off – except in order to create a presumption that you had realy

kiled him earlier? And then, too, there was that crusty pair, Polock and his

grandson, with their grudging evidence that they had seen Alexis ‘lying down’

on the Flat-Iron at 1.45. They must be in it too. That was it. That must be it.

The murder was meant to look like a morning murder – and that was why there

had been that curious insistence on the alibi and the journey to Wilvercombe.

‘Always suspect the man with the cast-iron alibi’ – was not that the very first

axiom in the detective’s book of rules? And here it was – the cast-iron alibi

which realy was cast-iron; meant to be scrutinised; meant to stand every test –

as how should it not, for it was truth! It looked queer – because it was intended

to look queer. It was asking, clamouring for investigation. It existed simply and

solely to distract attention from the crucial hour of two o’clock. And if only

Harriet had not come upon that freshly slain corpse, how wel the plan might

have succeeded. But Harriet had been there, and the whole structure had

colapsed under the shock of her evidence. That must have been a blow indeed.

No wonder Weldon was doing his best to discredit that awkward testimony as

to the time of the death. He knew better than anyone that death at two o’clock

was no proof of suicide, whatever it might appear to a coroner’s jury. He was

not stupid; he was shamming stupid, and doing it damned wel.

Wimsey was vaguely aware that Weldon was bidding him good-bye in some

form of words or other. He let him go readily, eagerly. He wanted to think this

thing over.

A little concentration in the privacy of his own room brought him to a point

from which he could begin to work forward with some assurance.

The original scheme had been smashed to pieces by Harriet’s evidence.

What would Weldon do next?

He might do nothing. That would be the safest way of al. He might rely on

the coroner’s verdict and trust that the police and Wimsey and Harriet and

everybody else would accept it. But would he have the deadly courage to do

that? He might – unless he knew of something in that cipher document which

might prove the suicide to be murder. If so, or if he lost his head – then he

would have to fal back on his second line of defence, which would be, what?

Undoubtedly, an alibi for two o’clock – the real time of the murder.

What had he actualy said about this? Wimsey looked up his notes, to which

he had added considerably of late. Weldon had vaguely mentioned a possible

witness, a man unknown who had been passing through Darley and had asked

him the time.

Of course, yes. He had suspected this witness already – that stock character

of detective fiction – the man who asks the time. Wimsey laughed. Now he felt

sure about it. Everything was provided for and the way discreetly paved for the

production of this useful witness in case of necessity. Now that the morning alibi

had failed to draw the enemy’s fire, the two o’clock alibi would be pushed to

the front. Only, this time it would not be cast-iron. It would be a fake. Quite a

good fake, very likely, but undoubtedly a fake. And then the shades of the

prison-house would begin to close, darkly and coldly over the figure of Mr

Henry Weldon.

‘If it were done when it is done, then it were – Weldon,’ said his lordship to

himself. ‘If I’m right, then that two o’clock witness wil turn up pretty quickly

now. And if he does turn up, I’l know I’m right.’

Which was logic after the manner of Mr Weldon.

XXII

THE EVIDENCE OF THE MANNEQUIN

‘All honest men, good Melchior, like thyself –

For that thou art, I think, upon my life –

Believe thee too.’

Torrismond

Saturday, 27 June Sunday, 28 June

Harriet Vane found herself comfortable enough in the quarters of the late Paul

Alexis. A polite letter from her literary agent asking ‘whether the new book

would be available for publication in the autumn’ had driven her back to the

problem of the town-clock, but she found herself giving it a very divided

attention. Compared with the remarkable tangle of the Alexis affair, the plot

seemed to be thin and obvious, while the ape-like Robert Templeton began to

display a tiresome tendency to talk like Lord Peter Wimsey. Harriet continualy

found herself putting her work aside – ‘to clear’ (as though it were coffee).

Novelists who have struck a snag in the working-out of the plot are rather given

to handing the problem over in this way to the clarifying action of the sub-

conscious. Unhappily, Harriet’s sub-conscious had other coffee to clear and

refused quite definitely to deal with the matter of the town-clock. Under such

circumstances it is admittedly useless to ask the conscious to take any further

steps. When she ought to have been writing, Harriet would sit comfortably in an

armchair, reading a volume taken from Paul Alexis’ bookshelf, with the idea of

freeing the sub-conscious for its job. In this way, her conscious imbibed a

remarkable amount of miscelaneous information about the Russian Imperial

Court and a stil more remarkable amount of romantic narrative about love and

war in Ruritanian states. Paul Alexis had evidently had a wel-defined taste in

fiction. He liked stories about young men of lithe and aluring beauty who,

blossoming into perfect gentlemen amid the most unpromising surroundings,

turned out to be the heirs to monarchies and, in the last chapter, successfuly

headed the revolts of devoted loyalists, overthrew the machinations of sinister

presidents, and appeared on balconies, dressed in blue-and-silver uniforms, to

receive the plaudits of their rejoicing and emancipated subjects. Sometimes they

were assisted by brave and beautiful English or American heiresses, who

placed their wealth at the disposal of the loyalist party; sometimes they

remained faithful despite temptation to brides of their own nationality, and

rescued them at the last moment from marriages of inconvenience with the

sinister presidents or their stil more sinister advisers; now and again they were

assisted by young Englishmen, Irishmen or Americans with clear-cut profiles

and a superabundance of energy, and in every case they went through a series

of hair-raising escapes and adventures by land, sea and air. Nobody but the

sinister presidents ever thought of anything so sordid as raising money by the

usual financial channels or indulging in political intrigue, nor did the greater

European powers or the League of Nations ever have anything to say in the

matter. The rise and fal of governments appeared to be a private arrangement,

comfortably thrashed out among a selection of smal Balkan States, vaguely

situated and acknowledging no relationships outside the domestic circle. No

literature could have been better suited for the release of the sub-conscious;

nevertheless, the sub-conscious obstinately refused to work. Harriet groaned in

spirit and turned to crosswords, with the aid of Chambers’ Dictionary – that

Bible of the crossword fan – which she found wedged between a paper-

covered book printed in Russian and
A Bid for the Throne
.

Lord Peter Wimsey had also found something to read, which was occupying

both his conscious and sub-conscious very pleasantly. It was a letter, dated

from Leamhurst in Huntingdonshire, and ran thus:

‘My Lord,

‘Agreeably to your lordship’s instructions I am residing here for a few days

pending repairs to my magneto. I have established friendly relations with an

individual called Hogben, who owns a reaper-and-binder, and is well acquainted

with the principal farmers in this neighbourhood.

‘I understand from him that Mr Henry Weldon’s affairs are considered to be in a

somewhat involved condition, and that his farm (Fourways) is heavily mortgaged.

He is popularly held to have raised a number of loans locally within the last year or

two on the strength of his expectations from his mother’s estate, but, in view of the

fact that Mrs Weldon has not visited him of late and that relations are rumoured to

be somewhat strained between them, some uneasiness is felt as to the value of this

security.

‘The farm management is at present in the hands of a certain Walter Morrison, the

head ploughman, a man of no great attainments, and, indeed, little better than an

ordinary labourer, though with considerable experience in his own line. It is

considered strange that Mr Weldon should have quitted the farm at this particular

time. In view of your lordship’s wire of last Wednesday evening, informing me of

the identification of Mr Henry Weldon with Mr Haviland Martin, I need not tell your

lordship that Mr Weldon left home on Sunday, 14th, returning on Sunday, 21st,

only to leave again early the next morning. There have been difficulties and delays

of late in the payment of labourers’ wages, and, owing partly to this cause,

Morrison is finding it no easy matter to get the hay in.

‘I heard also that there had been some trouble with the mortgagees over the

upkeep of the farm-buildings, dykes, hedges, etc. Accordingly, I made an expedition

to Fourways, in order to inspect the property with my own eyes. I found the

conditions to be as stated. Many of the walls and barns are in considerable

disrepair, while the field-boundaries display frequent gaps, due to insufficient

attention to proper hedging and ditching. The drainage, also (which, as your

lordship knows, is of paramount importance in this part of the country) is, in many

places very defective. In particular a large field (known as the 16-acre) was allowed

to remain (as I am informed) in a waterlogged condition all winter. Arrangements for

the drainage of this piece of arable were commenced last summer, but proceeded no

further than the purchase of the necessary quantities of pantiles, the cost of labour

interfering with the progress of the work. In consequence, this piece of land (which

adjoins the washes of the 100-foot level) is at present useless and sour.

‘Personally, Mr Weldon appears to be fairly well liked in the neighbourhood,

except that his manner is said to be somewhat too free with the ladies. He is

reckoned as a sportsman, and is frequently seen at Newmarket. It is also rumoured

that he supports a lady in a highly desirable little establishment in Cambridge. Mr

Weldon is considered to have a very good knowledge of animals, but to be

somewhat ignorant or careless of the agricultural aspect of farming.

‘His house is kept by an elderly man and his wife, who exercise the respective

functions of cowman and dairymaid. They appear respectable and, from the

conversation which I had with the woman when requesting the favour of a glass of

milk, honest people with nothing to hide. She informed me that Mr Weldon lived

quietly, when at home, keeping himself to himself. He receives few visitors, apart

from the local farmers. During the six years that these people have been with him,

his mother has visited him on three occasions (all within the first two years of this

period). Also, on two occasions he has had a visitor from London, a small

gentleman with a beard and said to be an invalid. This gentleman last stayed with

him at the end of February this year. The woman (Mrs Sterne) preserved a perfect

discretion on the subject of her employer’s financial circumstances, but I have

ascertained from Hogben that she and her husband have been privately inquiring

after another situation.

‘This is all that I have been able to discover in the short time at my disposal. (I

should have mentioned that I proceeded by train to Cambridge, hiring an automobile

there to sustain the character allotted to me and arriving here about Thursday

noon.) If your lordship so desires, I can remain and pursue my inquiries further.