hysterical, I should call it, if he’d been a girl. He kissed me on the Wednesday night when, he went up to his bed. joking he was and talking wild,’ but I didn’t pay attention. That was rather his way, you know. “One of these days,” he said, “you’ll find I’ve opened my wings and gone.” Little did I think — oh, dear me! Poor boy! I can see now that was just his way of breaking it to me. I heard him about in his room all night. Burning his papers, he was, poor dear lad. He’d had a dreadful disappointment and he didn’t want anybody to know. And in the morning he gave me his week’s money. “I know it’s a bit early,” he said — because, of course, it wasn’t due till Saturday, ‘but if I give it to you now, it’ll be safe,” he, said. “If I took it out with me, I might spend it.” Of course I know what was in his mind, poor dear. He knew he was going out and he didn’t want me to suffer; he always was considerate. But when I think now that a word, might have saved him-’
Mrs Lefranc burst into tears.
‘I did think he might, have been going away sudden to see after his speculations, but he didn’t pack up anything, so of course I put that out of my mind. And as for him doing what he did do how could I have thought it? He seemed in such high spirits. But there! I might have guessed, if my mind hadn’t been full of other things — only what with the girl giving notice as she did that morning and one thing and another, I didn’t pay attention. But they often do seem to be in high spirits before they put an end to themselves. There was poor Billy Carnaby — he was just the same. Gave an oyster-and-champagne party to the whole cast on his last night with his last penny and him the life and soul of it, making us split our sides and then went off and blew his brains out in the gentlemen’s lavatory.’
Mrs Lefranc cried bitterly for a few moments.
‘But there!’ she exclaimed, suddenly pulling herself together and blowing her nose, ‘life’s a funny thing and you can’t account for it, can you? Let’s be happy while we can. We’ll all be having a little white stone over us before long and it don’t matter so much how or when. When was, you wanting to take the room, dearie?’
‘I’ll be coming in. tonight,’ said Harriet. — ‘I don’t know whether I’ll want my board or not, but if I leave my suitcase and pay you the twelve — shillings for the room in advance, that’ll be all right, won’t it?’
‘That’s O.K. dearie,’ said Mrs Lefranc, obviously cheered. ‘Just you come; when you like, you’ll be happy with Ma Lefranc. There, now, you’ll think I’ve been talking enough to fetch the hind leg off a donkey, but what I say is, a good, cry now and again does you good when the world ain’t using you well. All my young people brings their troubles to me. I only wish poor Mr Alexis had told me all his worries and he’d be here now. But he was a foreigner, when all’s said and done and they aren’t like us, are they? Mind’ that dustpan, dearie. Time and again. I tell them not to leave things on the stairs, but you might as well talk to the cat. Five mice she left on my door-mat yesterday morning, if you’ll believe me, not that they ever come upstairs, dearie; and don’t you think it, but the cellars is overrun with them, the dirty little beasts. Well, so long, dear e, and by the way, here’s your latch-key. It’s lucky I had a new one cut; poor Mr Alexis took his away with him when he went and goodness knows where it is now. I let my visitors come in when and how they like; you’ll find yourself comfortable here.’
Chapter XVI. The Evidence Of The Sands
‘This is the oft-wished hour, when we together
May walk upon the sea-shore.’
— Death’s Jest-Book
Tuesday, 23 June
IF EITHER Harriet Vane or Lord Peter Wimsey felt any embarrassment at meeting again after their burst of free speech, they did not show it. Both had a story to tell, and were thus spared the awkwardness of being gravelled for lack of matter.
‘Cipher letters? Is it possible that Mrs Weldon is all right and that we are all wrong? It makes, it look more like murder, anyhow, which is one up to us. I don’t think much of Mrs Lefranc’s suggestion about speculations, but it’s perfectly obvious that Alexis had some scheme in hand, and it may be that the scheme went wrong. I don’t know…. I don’t know…. Were there, perhaps, two different sets of circumstances? Is it an accident that Alexis should have been killed just as his plans were maturing? He seems to have been surrounded by a bunch of curiously unpleasant people — liars and half-wits and prostitutes and dagoes.’
‘Yes I can’t say we’re moving in very exalted circles. Antoine is the decentest of them — but probably you don’t approve of Antoine.’
‘Is that meant for a challenge? I know all about Antoine. Vetted him last night’’
‘To see if he was nice for me to know?’
‘Not altogether. Part of the process of exploring the ground. He seems a modest, sensible fellow. It’s not his fault that he suffers from lack of vitality and incipient melancholia. He’s supporting a mother in an asylum and looks after an imbecile brother at home.’
‘Does he?”
‘Apparently; but that doesn’t mean that his own wits are not quite reliable at the moment. He was a little more frank about Alexis’ love-affairs than he could be to you. Alexis seems to have taken a fairly robust view of his association with Mrs Weldon, and to have got rid of Leila with more than ordinary tact and ability. Da Soto is a bad egg — of course, but good enough for Leila, and he is probably vain enough to believe quite sincerely that he took her from Alexis vi et armis. But why all this? Well, never mind; let’s have our tea.: Hullo! Great activity out at sea! Two boats stationed off the Grinders.’
‘Fishermen?’
‘Fishers of men, I fancy,’ replied Wimsey, grimly. ‘It’s Umpelty and his merry men. Pass me the field-glasses, Bunter. Yes.’ They look very busy. They’ve got the drags out. Have a squint.’
He passed the glasses to Harriet, who exclaimed:
‘They’re hauling something up. It must be pretty heavy. The Inspector’s lending a hand and one of the men is hanging on, at the other end for dear life to trim the boat. Oh, oh! you didn’t see that. What a pity’! Something gave way suddenly, and Inspector Umpelty has, gone head over heels backwards into the boat. Now he’s sitting up and rubbing himself.’
‘Dear Umpelty!’, Wimsey helped himself to a sandwich.
‘They’re dragging again he’s left it to the fishermen this time…. They’ve got it — they’re hauling — it’s coming up.’
‘Sit down and have your tea.’
‘Don’t be silly. They’re pulling away like anything.
There’s something black just showing-’ ‘Here! Let’s have a look.’
Harriet surrendered the glasses. They were Wimsey’s, after all, though if he thought that she would be upset by a distant view of what she had once seen so unpleasantly close