“No, no,” said Parker. “Wimsey, don’t think such ugly things as that.”
“Hell!” cried Peter, exploding. “I’ll have the truth of this beastly business if we all go to the gallows together!”
At this moment Bunter entered with a telegram addressed to Wimsey. Lord Peter read as follows:
“Party traced London; seen Marylebone Friday. Further information from Scotland Yard.—Police-Superintendent Gosling, Ripley.”
“Good egg!” cried Wimsey. “Now we’re gettin’ down to it. Stay here, there’s a good man, in case anything turns up. I’ll run round to the Yard now. They’ll send you up dinner, and tell Bunter to give you a bottle of the Château Yquem—it’s rather decent. So long.”
He leapt out of the flat, and a moment later his taxi buzzed away up Piccadilly.
VII
The Club and the Bullet
He is dead, and by my hand. It were better that I were dead myself, for the guilty wretch I am.
Adventures of Sexton Blake
Hour after hour Mr. Parker sat waiting for his friend’s return. Again and again he went over the Riddlesdale Case, checking his notes here, amplifying them there, involving his tired brain in speculations of the most fantastic kind. He wandered about the room, taking down here and there a book from the shelves, strumming a few unskillful bars upon the piano, glancing through the weeklies, fidgeting restlessly. At length he selected a volume from the criminological section of the bookshelves, and forced himself to read with attention that most fascinating and dramatic of poison trials—the Seddon Case. Gradually the mystery gripped him, as it invariably did, and it was with a start of astonishment that he looked up at a long and vigorous whirring of the doorbell, to find that it was already long past midnight.
His first thought was that Wimsey must have left his latchkey behind, and he was preparing a facetious greeting when the door opened—exactly as in the beginning of a Sherlock Holmes story—to admit a tall and beautiful young woman, in an extreme state of nervous agitation, with a halo of golden hair, violet-blue eyes, and disordered apparel all complete; for as she threw back her heavy traveling-coat he observed that she wore evening dress, with light green silk stockings and heavy brogue shoes thickly covered with mud.
“His lordship has not yet returned, my lady,” said Mr. Bunter, “but Mr. Parker is here waiting for him, and we are expecting him at any minute now. Will your ladyship take anything?”
“No, no,” said the vision hastily, “nothing, thanks. I’ll wait. Good evening, Mr. Parker. Where’s Peter?”
“He has been called out, Lady Mary,” said Parker. “I can’t think why he isn’t back yet. Do sit down.”
“Where did he go?”
“To Scotland Yard—but that was about six o’clock. I can’t imagine—”
Lady Mary made a gesture of despair.
“I knew it. Oh, Mr. Parker, what am I to do?”
Mr. Parker was speechless.
“I must see Peter,” cried Lady Mary. “It’s a matter of life and death. Can’t you send for him?”
“But I don’t know where he is,” said Parker. “Please, Lady Mary—”
“He’s doing something dreadful—he’s all wrong,” cried the young woman, wringing her hands with desperate vehemence. “I must see him—tell him—Oh! did anybody ever get into such dreadful trouble! I—oh!—”
Here the lady laughed loudly and burst into tears.
“Lady Mary—I beg you—please don’t,” cried Mr. Parker anxiously, with a strong feeling that he was being incompetent and rather ridiculous. “Please sit down. Drink a glass of wine. You’ll be ill if you cry like that. If it is crying,” he added dubiously to himself. “It sounds like hiccups. Bunter!”
Mr. Bunter was not far off. In fact, he was just outside the door with a small tray. With a respectful “Allow me, sir,” he stepped forward to the writhing Lady Mary and presented a small phial to her nose. The effect was startling. The patient gave two or three fearful whoops, and sat up, erect and furious.
“How dare you, Bunter!” said Lady Mary. “Go away at once!”
“Your ladyship had better take a drop of brandy,” said Mr. Bunter, replacing the stopper in the smelling-bottle, but not before Parker had caught the pungent reek of ammonia. “This is the 1800 Napoleon brandy my lady. Please don’t snort so, if I may make the suggestion. His lordship would be greatly distressed to think that any of it should be wasted. Did your ladyship dine on the way up? No? Most unwise, my lady, to undertake a long journey on a vacant interior. I will take the liberty of sending in an omelette for your ladyship. Perhaps you would like a little snack of something yourself, sir, as it is getting late?”
“Anything you like,” said Mr. Parker, waving him off hurriedly. “Now, Lady Mary, you’re feeling better, aren’t you? Let me help you off with your coat.”
No more of an exciting nature was said until the omelette was disposed of, and Lady Mary comfortably settled on the Chesterfield. She had by now recovered her poise. Looking at her, Parker noticed how her recent illness (however produced) had left its mark upon her. Her complexion had nothing of the brilliance which he remembered; she looked strained and white, with purple hollows under her eyes.
“I am sorry I was so foolish just now, Mr. Parker,” she said, looking into his eyes with a charming frankness and confidence, “but I was dreadfully distressed, and I came up from Riddlesdale so hurriedly.”
“Not at all,” said Parker meaninglessly. “Is there anything I can do in your brother’s absence?”
“I suppose you and Peter do everything together?”
“I think I may say that neither of us knows anything about this investigation which he has not communicated to the other.”
“If I tell you, it’s the same thing?”
“Exactly the same thing. If you can
