“Oh, yes; we’ve identified it.”

“Get on. Have you analysed it?”

“Yes, we’ve analysed it.”

“Well, what is it?”

Parker looked at him with the eyes of one who breaks bad news, and said, reluctantly:

“Bicarbonate of soda.”

CHAPTER XVI

Mr. Crofts, excusably enough, said, “I told you so”; Sir Impey Biggs observed curtly, “Very unfortunate.”

To chronicle Lord Peter Wimsey’s daily life during the ensuing week would be neither kind nor edifying. An enforced inactivity will produce irritable symptoms in the best of men. Nor did the imbecile happiness of Chief-Inspector Parker and Lady Mary Wimsey tend to soothe him, accompanied as it was by tedious demonstrations of affection for himself. Like the man in Max Beerbohm’s story, Wimsey “hated to be touching.” He was only moderately cheered by hearing from the industrious Freddy Arbuthnot that Mr. Norman Urquhart was found to be more or less deeply involved in the disasters of the Megatherium Trust.

Miss Kitty Climpson, on the other hand, was living in what she herself liked to call a “whirl of activity.” A letter written the second day after her arrival in Windle, furnishes us with a wealth of particulars.

Hillside View,

Windle,

Westmorland.

1st Jan. 1930.

my dear lord peter,

I feel sure you will be anxious to hear, at the earliest possible moment how things are going, and though I have only been here one day, I really think I have not done so badly, all things considered!

My train got in quite late on Monday night, after a most dreary journey, with a lugubrious wait at Preston, though thanks to your kindness in insisting that I should travel First-class, I was not really at all tired! Nobody can realise what a great difference these extra comforts make, especially when one is getting on in years, and after the uncomfortable travelling which I had to endure in my days of poverty, I feel that I am living in almost sinful luxury! The carriage was well heated – indeed, too much so and I should have liked the window down, but that there was a very fat business man, muffled up to the eyes in coats and woolly waistcoats who strongly objected to fresh air! Men are such hot-house plants nowadays, are they not, quite unlike my dear father, who would never permit a fire in the house before November the 1st, or after March 31st even though the thermometer was at freezing-point!

I had no difficulty in getting a comfortable room at the Station Hotel, late as it was. In the old days, an unmarried woman arriving alone at midnight with a suitcase would hardly have been considered respectable – what a wonderful difference one finds today! I am grateful to have lived to see such changes, because whatever oldfashioned people may say about the greater decorum and modesty of women in Queen Victoria’s time, those who can remember the old conditions know how difficult and humiliating they were!

Yesterday morning, of course, my first object was to find a suitable boarding-house, in accordance with your instructions, and I was fortunate enough to hit upon this house at the second attempt. It is very well run and refined, and there are three elderly ladies who are permanent boarders here, and are well up in all the gossip of the town, so that nothing could be more advantageous for our purpose!

As soon as I had engaged my room, I went out for a little voyage of discovery. I found a very helpful policeman in the High Street, and asked him where to find Mrs. Wrayburn’s house. He knew quite well, and told me to take the omnibus and it would be a penny ride to the “Fisherman’s Arms” and then about 5 minutes’ walk. So I followed his directions, and the ‘bus took me right into the country to a crossroads with the “Fisherman’s Arms” v at the corner. The conductor was most polite and helpful and showed me the way, so I had no difficulty in finding the house.

It is a beautiful old place, standing in its own grounds – quite a big house built in the eighteenth century, with an Italian porch and a lovely green lawn with a cedar-tree and formal flower beds, and in summer must be really a garden of Eden. I looked at it from the road for a little time – I did not think this would be at all peculiar behaviour, if anybody saw me, because anybody might be interested in such a fine old place. Most of the blinds were down, as though the greater part of the house were uninhabited, and I could not see any gardener or anybody about – I suppose there is not very much to be done in the garden this time of the year. One of the chimneys was smoking, however, so there were some signs of life about the place.

I took a little walk down the road and then turned back and passed the house again, and this time I saw a servant just passing round the corner of the house, but of course she was too far off for me to speak to. So I took the omnibus back again and had lunch at Hillside View, so as to make acquaintance with my fellow-boarders.

Naturally I did not want to seem too eager all at once, so I said nothing about Mrs. Wrayburn’s house at first, but just talked generally about Windle. I had some difficulty in parrying the questions of the good ladies, who wondered very much why a stranger had come to Windle at this time of year, but without telling many actual untruths I think I left them with the impression that I had come into a little fortune (!) and was visiting the Lake District to find a suitable spot in which to settle next summer! I talked about sketching – as girls we were all brought up to dabble a little in water-colours, so that I was able to display quite sufficient technical knowledge to satisfy them!

That gave me quite a good opportunity to ask about the house! Such a beautiful old place, I said, and did anybody live there? (Of course I did not blurt this out all at once – I waited till they had told me of the many quaint spots in the district that would interest an artist!) Mrs. Pegler, a very stout, pussy old lady, with a long tongue (!) was able to tell me all about it. My dear Lord Peter, what I do not know now about the abandoned wickedness of Mrs. Wrayburn’s early life is really not worth knowing!! But what was more to the point is that she told me the name of Mrs. Wrayburn’s nurse-companion. She is a miss booth, a retired nurse, about sixty years old, and she lives all alone in the house with Mrs. Wrayburn, except for the servants, and a housekeeper. When I heard that Mrs. Wrayburn was so old, and paralysed and frail, I said was it not very dangerous that Miss Booth should be the only attendant, but Mrs. Pegler said the housekeeper was a most trustworthy woman who had been with Mrs. Wrayburn for many years, and was quite capable of looking after her any time when Miss Booth was out. So it appears that Miss Booth does go out sometimes! Nobody in this house seems to know her personally, but they say she is often seen in the town in nurse’s uniform. I managed to extract quite a good description of her, so if I should happen to meet her, I daresay I shall be smart enough to recognise her!

That is really all I have been able to discover in one day. I hope you will not be too disappointed, but I was obliged to listen to a terrible amount of local history of one kind and another, and of course I could not force the conversation round to Mrs. Wrayburn in any suspicious way.

I will let you know as soon as I get the least bit more information.

Most sincerely yours,

Katharine Alexandra Climpson.

Miss Climpson finished her letter in the privacy of her bedroom, and secured it carefully in her capacious handbag before going downstairs. A long experience of boarding-house life warned her that to display openly an envelope addressed even to a minor member of the nobilityVould be to court a quite unnecessary curiosity.