The Rebel Angels

"- Why Urky? Well, why not Urky? I need someone and he fills the bill because his taking-off will cause a stir, especially in the way I have managed it, without in any serious way depriving the world of a useful human creature. Besides, I have become impatient with his hoity-toity ways with me, as well as his stinginess. It is an oddity of people with unusual sexual tastes that they must enjoy them in the company of somebody whom they can patronize and look down on; I think Oscar Wilde really liked his grooms and messenger boys better than he ever liked aristocratic Bosie. There are men who like vulgar women, as well as women who prefer vulgar men; snobbery in sex has never been carefully investigated. But I, to whom Urky was what a dog is to a man, have grown tired of playing the gossiping old Edinburgh wifie, to be snubbed and put down by The McVarish. The worm turns: the parasite punishes.

"- So, a few hours ago when the tedious charade of the Two Old Edinburgh Ladies had sniggered towards its close, I made a change in the script, which Urky at first saw as an ingenious variation designed for his pleasure. Oh, invaluable parasite!

"- Imagine him, tied up and giggling like a schoolgirl as I lean closer and closer.

MRS MASHAM: Mistress Morley, my dear, you do giggle so! It can't be good for you. I shall have to punish you, you naughty girlie. Look how you've disturbed your frock! I shall have to tie you up tight, my wee lassie, verra tight indeed. – But och! what a foolish giggler! Can ye not laugh a guid hearty laugh! Here, let me show you how. See, I am going to put this record on the machine; it's Sir Harry Lauder singing 'Stop Your Tickling, Jock'. – Now, listen how Sir Harry laughs; that's a laugh, eh? A guid, hearty laugh? Come on, Mistress Morley, sing with me and Sir Harry:

I'm courtin' a fairmer's dochter,

She's one o' the fairest ever seen;

Her cheeks they are a rosy red,

And her age is just sweet seventeen -

I'll just turn up the volume a bit to encourage you. And I'll tickle you! Yes, I will! See, I'm coming at you to tickle you! – Och, do ye call that a laugh? I know what! Ordinary tickling will never do the job. Now watch: ye see I have here my knitting needles. If I juist insert this one up your great red nose, Mistress Morley, and wiggle it a wee bit to tickle the hairs, eh? Ticklish, eh? But still not enough; let's put the other needle up the other hole in yer neb. See, when I wiggle them both how easy it is to laugh? Laugh right along with Sir Harry? Och, that's not laughin'. That's more like shriekin'. I'll just push them in a wee bit further. No, no, it's no good rollin' yer een and greeting, Mistress Morley, my dear. – D'ye know, a great idea occurs to me! Juist suppose now – I'll need some sort of a hammer – so juist suppose I take off my shoe, so. Then wi' the heel o't I gie the ends o' the needles a sharp tap – one, two: But Mistress Morley, ye're no longer laughin'. Only Sir Harry is laughin'.

"- And indeed only Sir Harry was laughing, for Urky with two aluminium knitting-needles well up into his brain was quite quiet. Whether it was the needles, or fright, or heart failure, or all three, Urky was dead, or too close to it to make a sound.

"- So – out of Mistress Masham's old gown in a flash, set the repeating-device and turn up the volume on the record-player to the full, so that Sir Harry will go on singing his song and laughing heartily until a neighbour phones the caretaker, and out of the flat, not forgetting my envelope. But no need to worry about fingerprints; I wanted to leave plenty of those, so that there would be no danger of anybody else stealing my murder.

"- No fingerprints, however, on one little thing I removed from Urky's apartment; he had it locked up in his desk and like so many vain people he had a simple faith in simple locks. You may open your gifts now, children. – Package Number One: yes, it's the Gryphius Portfolio and it's yours, my dears, to gloat over and keep for your own dear little selves. Especially those letters concealed in the back flap. Urky knew all about them, and he hinted about what he knew, underestimating my power to comprehend, as he always did, the poor sap.