Have His Carcase

‘There you are,’ said Wimsey, ‘that’s the breed that made the Empire. When empire comes in at the door, logic goes out at the window. Well, I suppose that’s all. I say, Inspector.’

‘My lord?’

‘What are you doing with that scrap of paper?’

‘I don’t quite now, my lord. Do you think there’s anything to be made of it?’

‘Yes; send it up to Scotland Yard and ask them to get the photographic experts on to it. You can do a lot with coloured screens. Get hold of Chief Inspector Parker — he’ll see that it’s put into the right hands.’

The Inspector nodded.

‘We’ll do that. It’s my belief there’s something for us in that bit of paper, if we could only get at it. I don’t know when I’ve seen a queerer business than this. It looks just about as clear a case of suicide as you could wish, if it wasn’t for one or two things. And yet, when you look into those things separately, they seem to melt away, like. There’s that Bright. I thought we’d got him on one point, anyhow. But there! I’ve noticed, that these landsmen, nine times out of ten, haven’t the least notion whether the tide’s in or out or where it is. I think he was lying; so do you — but you couldn’t expect a jury to hang a man for murder on the ground that he didn’t know High Water from Low Water.

We’ll try to keep an eye on the fellow, but I don’t see how we’re going to detain him. The verdict’s suicide; (which suits us well enough in a way), and if Bright wants ‘to move on, we can’t stop him. Not unless we offer to pay for his board and lodging for an indefinite period, and that wouldn’t suit; the rate-payers. He’s got no settled address, and seeing what, his business is, we can’t hardly expect it. We’ll get out a general call to, have him kept under observation, but that’s about all we can do. And of course, he’ll change his name again.’

‘Isn’t he on the dole?’

‘No.’ The Inspector snorted. ‘Says he’s got an independent spirit. That’s a suspicious circumstance in itself, I should say. Besides — he’ll be claiming this reward from the Morning Star and won’t need any doles for a bit. But we can’t force him to stay in Wilvercombe, at his own expense, reward or no reward.’

‘Get hold of Mr Hardy, and see if’ the paper can’t hold the reward up a bit. Then, if he doesn’t turn up to claim it, we’ll know: for a certainty that there’s something wrong with him. A contempt for money, Inspector, is the root — or at any rate, the very definite sign of all evil.’

The Inspector grinned.

‘You and me think alike, my lord. There’s something fishy about a bloke that doesn’t take all he can get. Right you are. I’ll speak to Mr Hardy. And I’ll try and fix up with Bright to hang on here a couple of days. If he’s up to anything queer, he won’t try to bolt for fear of looking suspicious.

‘It’ll look much more suspicious if he consents to stay.’

‘Yes, my lord but he won’t reason that way. He won’t want to make trouble. He’ll stay for a bit, I daresay. Fact is, I was thinking, if we could pull him in over some other little matter I don’t know, but-he’s a slippery looking customer, and I shouldn’t wonder but what we might find some excuse or other to detain him on.’ He winked.

‘Framing him, Inspector?’

‘Good lord, no, may lord. Can’t do that in this country.

But there’s lots of little things a man may do in the way of breaking the law. There’s street-betting, and drunk and disorderly, and buying stuff after closing-hours and so on — little odds-and-ends that come in handy at times.’

‘My conscience!’ said Wimsey ‘First time I’ve heard a good word for Dora! Well, I must be getting along. Hullo, Weldon! I didn’t know you were there.’

‘Funny business, all this.’ Mr Weldon waved his hand vaguely. ‘Lot of silly stuff people do talk, eh? You’d think the whole thing was plain as pie, but here’s my mother still talking about Bolsheviks. Take more than a coroner’s verdict to keep her quiet. Women! You can talk yourself black in the face reasoning with ’em and all they do is to go on bleating the same silly nonsense. You can’t take any account of what they say, can you?’

‘They’re not all alike.’

‘So they say. But that’s all part of this equality nonsense. Now take Miss Vane. Nice girl, and all that, and decent looking when she takes the trouble to put her clothes on

‘What about Miss Vane?’’ demanded Wimsey, sharply. Then he thought: ‘Damn being in love! I’m losing my lightness of touch.’ Weldon merely grinned.

‘No offence,’ he said. ‘I only meant — take that evidence of hers. How’s a girl like that to be expected to know about blood and all that — see what I mean? Women always get that idea of blood running about all over the place. Always reading novels. “Wallowing in gore.?’ That kind of stuff.’ No good trying to persuade ’em. They see what they think they ought to see. Get me?’

‘You seem to have studied feminine psychology,’ said Wimsey, gravely.

‘Oh, I know women pretty well; said Mr Weldon, with solemn satisfaction.

‘You mean.,’ went on Wimsey, ‘that they think in cliches.’

‘Eh?’