The Lord Peter Wimsey Mysteries 1-3 by Dorothy L. Sayers

The Lord Peter Wimsey Mysteries 1-3 by Dorothy L. Sayers

Author:Dorothy L. Sayers [Sayers, Dorothy L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Mystery
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2013-11-18T05:00:00+00:00


CHAPTER XIII

Manon

“That one word, my dear Watson, should have told me the whole story, had I been the ideal reasoner which you are so fond of depicting.”

—Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes

“THANK GOD,” SAID PARKER. “Well, that settles it.”

“It does—and yet again, it doesn’t,” retorted Lord Peter. He leaned back against the fat silk cushion in the sofa corner meditatively.

“Of course, it’s disagreeable having to give this woman away,” said Parker sensibly and pleasantly, “but these things have to be done.”

“I know. It’s all simply awfully nice and all that. And Jerry, who’s got the poor woman into this mess, has to be considered first, I know. And if we don’t restrain Grimethorpe quite successfully, and he cuts her throat for her, it’ll be simply rippin’ for Jerry to think of all his life … Jerry! I say, you know, what frightful idiots we were not to see the truth right off! I mean—of course, my sister-in-law is an awfully good woman, and all that, but Mrs. Grimethorpe—whew! I told you about the time she mistook me for Jerry. One crowded, split second of glorious all-overishness. I ought to have known then. Our voices are alike, of course, and she couldn’t see in that dark kitchen. I don’t believe there’s an ounce of any feeling left in the woman except sheer terror—but, ye gods! what eyes and skin! Well, never mind. Some undeserving fellows have all the luck. Have you got any really good stories? No? Well, I’ll tell you some—enlarge your mind and all that. Do you know the rhyme about the young man at the War Office?”

Mr. Parker endured five stories with commendable patience, and then suddenly broke down.

“Hurray!” said Wimsey. “Splendid man! I love to see you melt into a refined snigger from time to time. I’ll spare you the really outrageous one about the young housewife and the traveller in bicycle-pumps. You know, Charles, I really should like to know who did Cathcart in. Legally, it’s enough to prove Jerry innocent, but, Mrs. Grimethorpe or no Mrs. Grimethorpe, it doesn’t do us credit in a professional capacity. The father weakens, but the governor is firm’; that is, as a brother I am satisfied—I may say light-hearted—but as a sleuth I am cast down, humiliated, thrown back upon myself, a lodge in a garden of cucumbers. Besides, of all defences an alibi is the most awkward to establish, unless a number of independent and disinterested witnesses combine to make it thoroughly airtight. If Jerry sticks to his denial, the most they can be sure of is that either he or Mrs. Grimethorpe is being chivalrous.”

“But you’ve got the letter.”

“Yes. But how are we going to prove that it came that evening? The envelope is destroyed. Fleming remembers nothing about it. Jerry might have received it days earlier. Or it might be a complete fake. Who is to say that I didn’t put it in the window myself and pretend to find it. After all, I’m hardly what you would call disinterested.



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