Chapter XIX. The Evidence Of The Disguised Motorist
‘Confess, or to the dungeon—
Pause!’
— Death’s Jest-Book
Thursday, 25 June
MR WELDON did not bolt. Wimsey had no difficulty in catching him the following morning, and was rather glad he had waited, for in the meantime he had received a letter, from Chief Inspector Parker.
‘MY DEAR PETER,
‘What will you want next? I have got a little, preliminary information for you, and if anything fresh turns up I will keep you posted.
‘First of all your Mr Haviland Martin is not a Bolshevik agent. He has had that account in Cambridge for quite a long time, and owns a small house, complete with lady, in the outskirts of the town. He took it, I believe, in 1925, and makes his appearance there from time to time, dark spectacles and all. He was recommended to the bank by one Mr Henry Weldon, of Leamhurst, Hunts, and there has never been any trouble with his account — a small one. He is thought to travel in something or other. All this suggests to me that the gentleman may be leading a double life, but you can put the Bolshevik theory out of your head.
‘I got hold of Morris, the Bolshevik-wallah, this evening. He doesn’t know of any Communist or Russian agent who might be knocking about Wilvercombe at the present time and thinks you have got hold of a mare’s nest.
‘By the way, the Cambridge police, from whom I had to wangle the Martin dope by telephone, want to know what is up. First Wilvercombe, then me! Fortunately, knowing their Super pretty well, I was able to get him to put pressure on the bank. I fancy I left them with the impression that it had something to do with bigamy!
‘Talking of bigamy, Mary sends her love and wants to know whether you are any nearer committing monogamy yet. She says I am to recommend it to you out of my own experience, so I do so — acting strictly under orders.
‘Affectionately yours,
‘CHARLES’
Thus armed, Wimsey descended on Henry Weldon, who greeted him with his usual offensive familiarity. Lord Peter bore with this as long ago he thought advisable, and then said, carelessly:
‘By the way, Weldon you gave Miss Vane quite a turn yesterday afternoon.’
Henry looked at him rather unpleasantly.
‘Oh! Did I? Well, I don’t see why you need to come butting in.’
‘I wasn’t referring to your manners,’ said Wimsey, ‘though I admit they are a bit startling. But why didn’t you mention that you and she had met before?’
‘Met before? For the very simple reason that we never have met before.’
‘Come, come, Weldon. How about last Thursday afternoon at the top of Hinks’s Lane?’ He turned an ugly colour.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’
‘Don’t you? Well, it’s your own, business, of course, but if you want to go about the country incognito, you ought to get rid of that pattern on your arm. I understand that these things can be removed. Re-tattooing in flesh-colour is the simplest method, I believe.’
‘Oh!’ Henry stared for a few moments; then a slow grin, spread itself over his face.
‘So that’s what the little hussy meant when she said she’d seen a snake. Sharp girl, that, Wimsey. Fancy her spotting that’
‘Manners, please!’ said Wimsey. ‘You will kindly refer to Miss Vane in a proper, way and spare me the boring nuisance’ of pushing your teeth out at the back of your neck.’
‘Oh, all right, just as you like. But I’d like to see you try—’
‘You wouldn’t see it. It would happen, that’s all. But I’ve no time to waste in comparative physiology. I want to know what you were doing in Darley in disguise.’
‘What affair is it of yours?’
‘None; but the police might be interested. Anything that happened last Thursday interests them at the moment
‘Oh! I see. You want to fix something on me. Well, just as it so happens, you can’t, so you can put that in your pipe and smoke it. It’s a fact that I came down here in another name. Why shouldn’t I? — I didn’t want my mother to know I was here:
‘Why?’
‘Well, you see, I didn’t like this Alexis business at all. There’s no harm in admitting that I’ve said it already and I don’t mind saying it again. I wanted to find out what was happening. If this marriage was really going through, I wanted to stop it.’
‘But couldn’t you have done that openly, without blacking your hair and dressing yourself up in dark spectacles?’
‘Of course I could. I could’ have burst in on the lovebirds and made a hell of a row and frightened Alexis off, I dare say. And then what? Had a devil of a scene with my mother, and been cut off with a shilling, I suppose. No. My idea was to snoop around and see whether the job was really being put, through, and, if it was, to get hold of the young blighter and buy him off privately.’
‘You’d have needed some cash to do that,’ said Wimsey; drily.
‘I don’t know about that. I’d heard some stories about a girl down here, don’t you see, and if my mother got to know about that—’
‘Ah, yes — a qualified form of blackmail. I begin to see the idea. You were going to pick up information in Wilvercombe about Alexis’ previous entanglements, and then present him with the choice between having Mrs Weldon told’ about it and possibly getting nothing out of it, and taking your cash in hand and letting his credit as a faithful lover go. Is that it?’
‘That’s it.’
‘And why Darley?’
Because I didn’t want to run into the old lady in Wilvercombe. A pair of specs and a bottle of hair-dye might be all right for the yokels, but to the sharp eye of mother-love, you understand, they might not be as impenetrable as a brick wall.’
‘Quite so. Do you mind my asking whether you made any progress with this delicate investigation?’
‘Not much. I only got to the place on Tuesday evening, and I spent most, of Wednesday tinkering with the car. Those fools at the garage sent it out-’
‘Ah, yes! One moment. Was it really necessary to hire a car with all that parade of secrecy?’
‘It was, rather, because my mother would have recognised my own bus. It’s rather an unusual colour.’
‘You seem to have thought it all out very well. Did you have no difficulty about hiring it? — oh, no, how stupid, of me! You could give your own name to the garage, naturally.’
‘I could, but, I didn’t. To be perfectly frank — well! I don’t mind saying that I had another name and address all ready to slip into. Sometimes I slip off to Cambridge on the quiet, see! To visit a lady there. You get me. Nice little woman — devoted and all that. Husband in the background somewhere. He won’t divorce her, and I’m not worrying. Suits me all right as it is. Only there again, if my, mother got to hear about it — there’s been trouble, one way and another, and I didn’t want to start it again. We’re right as rain in Cambridge — Mr and Mrs Haviland Martin — all perfectly respectable, and all that, and it’s easy enough to slip over when one wants a spot of domestic bliss and so on. You get me?’