Have His Carcase

‘Not too bad. I can work that up into something. I shall add, of course, that you, knowing the enormous circulation of the Morning Star, are relying on the wide publicity it will give to this statement to etcetera, etcetera. I might even get them to offer a reward.’

‘Why not? Anyway, pitch it to ’em hot and strong, Sally.’

‘I will, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer. between you and me, would you be satisfied that it was suicide; if the reward was claimed?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Wimsey. ‘Probably not. In fact, I am never satisfied.’

Chapter XII. The Evidence Of The Bride’s Son

‘How I despise

All such mere men of muscle!’—

— Death’s Jest-Book

Monday, 22 June

WIMSEY looked at his watch. It was half-past one, and he had had no lunch. He remedied the omission, took the car and drove out to Darley. He had to wait for a few moments while the gates were opened at the Halt, and took the opportunity to check up on the police inquiry. He found that the lame gate-keeper knew the mysterious Mr Martin by sight — had, in fact, met him one evening in the bar of the Feathers. A pleasant gentleman, with a hearty way with him. Suffered from some trouble with his eyes, which obliged’; him to wear dark glasses, but a very nice gentleman for all that. The gate-keeper was quite positive that Mr Martin had not passed through the railway-gates, at any time on Thursday — not in. any car or cart or on a cycle, that was to say. As for passing on foot, he couldn’t swear to it, and you couldn’t expect it of him.

Here, however, a new witness suddenly came forward. The gate-keeper’s little daughter, Rosie, ‘just going on for five, and a wonderful quick girl for her age, as her father proudly remarked, was emphatic that ‘the nasty man with the black glasses had not been seen at the railway-gates during the critical period on the Thursday. Rosie knew him and disliked him, for she had seen him in the village the day before and his horrid black glasses had frightened her. She and a small friend had been ‘playing Bluebeard’ at the railway-gates on Thursday. She knew it was Thursday, because it was market day, when the 10.15 stopped there. She had been Sister Anne on her tower, and had called out to her companion when she saw anybody coming along the road. They had played there from after dinner 02.30 according to the gate-keeper), till nearly tea-time (four o’clock). She was absolutely sure the nasty man had not come through. the railway-wickets. If he had, she would have run away.

This seemed to dispose of the last’ lingering possibility that the mysterious Mr Martin might have left the Feathers rather earlier than he was supposed to have-done, walked to the crossing and been picked up by a car on, the other side. Wimsey thanked Rosie with grave courtesy, gave her sixpence and drove on.

His next port, of call was, of course, the Feathers.. The landlord, Mr Lundy, was ready enough with his information. What he had told the inspector was quite right. He had first seen Mr Martin on Tuesday — the 16th, that would be. He had arrived about six o’clock and left his Morgan parked on the village green while he came in and took a glass of mild and-bitter — and asked the way to Mr Goodrich’s house. Who was Mr. Goodrich? Why, Mr Goodrich was the gentleman that owned the land down by Hinks’s Lane, where Mr Martin had been camping’ All the land thereabouts belonged to Mr Goodrich.

‘I want to be clear about this,’ said Wimsey. ‘Did Mr: Martin come here from the direction of Hinks’s Lane, or which way did he come?’

‘No, sir; he drove,in along the Heathbury Road’ and left his car on the green,’ same as I said.’

‘Did he come straight in here?’

‘Straight as a swaller to its nest,’ replied Mr Lundy; picturesquely. ‘We was open, you see, sir.’

‘And did he ask anybody about where he could camp? Or did he ask at once for Mr Goodrich?’

‘He didn’t ask no questions at all sir, only that: Where was Mr Goodrich’s house?’

‘He knew Mr Goodrich’s name, then?’

‘Seemingly he did, sir.’

‘Did he say why he wanted to see Mr Goodrich?’

‘No, sir. Just asked the way and drank up his beer and, off in the car again.’

‘I understand he had lunch here last Thursday?’

‘That’s right, sir., Came in a big open car with a lady.. She set him down here and drove off again, and he came in and set, down to lunch.’’ He thought it would be about one o’clock, but the girl could tell better than he could.

The, girl knew all about it. Yes, as she had already told Inspector Umpelty, Mr Martin had come in about ten minutes to one. He mentioned to her that he had been to Wilvercombe, and thought he would make a change by lunching at the inn. His car, it seemed, had got something the matter with it, and a passing car had picked him up and taken him to Wilvercombe and back. Yes, he had lunched, heartily: roast leg of mutton with potatoes and boiled cabbage and a rhubarb pie to follow.