"No," said Lord Peter. "No. Couldn' do that. Not without frien'. Good of' Freddy. Never-desert-friend! Dear ol' Sugg. Wouldn't desert Freddy."

He attempted an attitude, with one foot poised on the step of the taxi, but, miscalculating his distance, stepped heavily into the gutter, thus entering the vehicle unexpectedly, head first.

Mr. Sugg tried to tuck his legs in and shut him up, but his lordship thwarted this movement with unlooked-for agility, and sat firmly on the step.

"Not my taxi," he explained solemnly. "Freddy's taxi. Not right-run away with frien's taxi. Very odd. Jush went roun' corner to fesh Fred'sh taxshi-Freddy jush went roun' corner fesh my taxi-fesh friend'sh taxshi-friendship sush a beautiful thing-don't you thing so, Shugg? Can't leave frien'. Beshides-there'sh dear ol' Parker."

"Mr. Parker?" said the Inspector apprehensively. "Where?"

"Hush," said his lordship. "Don' wake baby, theresh good shoul. Neshle'sh baby-jush shee 'm neshle, don't he neshle nishely?"

Following his lordship's gaze, the horrified Sugg observed his official superior cosily tucked up on the far side of Palmerston and smiling a happy smile in his sleep. With an exclamation of alarm he bent over and shook the sleeper.

"Unkind!" cried Lord Peter in a deep, reproachful tone. "Dishturb poor fellow-poor hard-workin' pleeshman. Never getsh up till alarm goes… 'Stra'or'nary thing," he added, as though struck by a new idea, "why hashn't alarm gone off, Shugg?" He pointed a wavering finger at Big Ben. "They've for-forgotten to wind it up. Dishgrayshful. I'll write to The T-T-Timesh about it."

Mr. Sugg wasted no words, but picked up the slumbering Parker and hoisted him into the taxi.

"Never-never-deshert-" began Lord Peter resisting all efforts to dislodge him from the step, when a second taxi, advancing from Whitehall, drew up, with the Hon. Freddy Arbuthnot cheering loudly at the window.

"Look who's here!" cried the Hon. Freddy. "Jolly jolly, jolly ol' Sugg. Let'sh all go home together."

"That'sh my taxshi," interposed his lordship, with dignity, staggering across to it. The two whirled together for a moment; then the Hon. Freddy was flung into Sugg's arms, while his lordship, with a satisfied air, cried "Home!" to the new taxi-man, and instantly fell asleep in a corner of the vehicle.

Mr. Sugg scratched his head, gave Lord Peter's address, and watched the cab drive off. Then, supporting the Hon. Freddy on his ample bosom, he directed the other man to convey Mr. Parker to 100 Great Ormond Street.

"Take me home," cried the Hon. Freddy, bursting into tears, "they've all gone and left me!"

"You leave it to me, sir," said the Inspector. He glanced over his shoulder at St. Stephen's, whence a group of Commons were just issuing from an all-night sitting.

"Mr. Parker an' all," said Inspector Sugg, adding devoutly, "Thank Gawd there weren't no witnesses."

About The Author

British author Dorothy L. Sayers (1893-1957) is widely recognized as a master of the detective story genre. Her fourteen novels that feature aristocrat, scholar, and sleuth Lord Peter Wimsey were well received in their first publication, and have become bestselling classics.

Sayers was one of the first women ever to receive a degree from Oxford, in the field of medieval linguistics. Her other works include plays, critical essays on medieval literature, and a translation of Dante’s Divine Comedy.