Read Ebook: Unnatural death by Sayers Dorothy L Dorothy Leigh

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Ebook has 1244 lines and 57720 words, and 25 pages

"Why, I thought it looked like Miss Whittaker, as Bertha and me used to work for."

"Where was she?"

"Just down by that pillar there, a tall dark lady in a crimson hat and grey fur. But she's gone now."

"Excuse me."

Lord Peter unhitched Mrs. Gulliver from his arm, hitched her smartly on to the unoccupied arm of Mr. Murbles, and plunged into the crowd. Mr. Murbles, quite unperturbed by this eccentric behaviour, shepherded the two women into an empty first-class carriage which, Mrs. Cropper noted, bore a large label, "Reserved for Lord Peter Wimsey and party." Mrs. Cropper made some protesting observation about her ticket, but Mr. Murbles merely replied that everything was provided for, and that privacy could be more conveniently secured in this way.

"Your friend's going to be left behind," said Mrs. Cropper as the train moved out.

"That would be very unlike him," replied Mr. Murbles, calmly unfolding a couple of rugs and exchanging his old-fashioned top-hat for a curious kind of travelling cap with flaps to it. Mrs. Cropper, in the midst of her anxiety, could not help wondering where in the world he had contrived to purchase this Victorian relic. As a matter of fact, Mr. Murbles' caps were specially made to his own design by an exceedingly expensive West End hatter, who held Mr. Murbles in deep respect as a real gentleman of the old school.

Nothing, however, was seen of Lord Peter for something like a quarter of an hour, when he suddenly put his head in with an amiable smile and said:

"One red-haired woman in a crimson hat; three dark women in black hats; several nondescript women in those pull-on sort of dust-coloured hats; old women with grey hair, various; sixteen flappers without hats--hats on rack, I mean, but none of 'em crimson; two obvious brides in blue hats; innumerable fair women in hats of all colours; one ash-blonde dressed as a nurse, none of 'em our friend as far as I know. Thought I'd best just toddle along the train to make sure. There's just one dark sort of female whose hat I can't see because it's tucked down beside her. Wonder if Mrs. Cropper would mind doin' a little stagger down the corridor to take a squint at her."

Mrs. Cropper, with some surprise, consented to do so.

These manoeuvres were successfully accomplished, Lord Peter lighting a cigarette opposite the suspected compartment, while Mrs. Cropper viewed the hatless lady under cover of his raised elbows. But the result was disappointing. Mrs. Cropper had never seen the lady before, and a further promenade from end to end of the train produced no better results.

"We must leave it to Bunter, then," said his lordship, cheerfully, as they returned to their seats. "I put him on the trail as soon as you gave me the good word. Now, Mrs. Cropper, we really get down to business. First of all, we should be glad of any suggestions you may have to make about your sister's death. We don't want to distress you, but we have got an idea that there might, just possibly, be something behind it."

"There's just one thing, sir--your lordship, I suppose I should say. Bertha was a real good girl--I can answer for that absolutely. There wouldn't have been any carryings-on with her young man--nothing of that. I know people have been saying all sorts of things, and perhaps, with lots of girls as they are, it isn't to be wondered at. But, believe me, Bertha wouldn't go for to do anything that wasn't right. Perhaps you'd like to see this last letter she wrote me. I'm sure nothing could be nicer and properer from a girl just looking forward to a happy marriage. Now, a girl as wrote like that wouldn't be going larking about, sir, would she? I couldn't rest, thinking they was saying that about her."

Lord Peter took the letter, glanced through it, and handed it reverently to Mr. Murbles.

"We're not thinking that at all, Mrs. Cropper, though of course we're very glad to have your point of view, don't you see. Now, do you think it possible your sister might have been--what shall I say?--got hold of by some woman with a plausible story and all that, and--well--pushed into some position which shocked her very much? Was she cautious and up to the tricks of London people and all that?"

And he outlined Parker's theory of the engaging Mrs. Forrest and the supposed dinner in the flat.

"Well, my lord, I wouldn't say Bertha was a very quick girl--not as quick as me, you know. She'd always be ready to believe what she was told and give people credit for the best. Took more after her father, like. I'm Mother's girl, they always said, and I don't trust anybody further than I can see them. But I'd warned her very careful against taking up with women as talks to a girl in the street, and she did ought to have been on her guard."

"Of course," said Peter, "it may have been somebody she'd got to know quite well--say, at the restaurant, and she thought she was a nice lady and there'd be no harm in going to see her. Or the lady might have suggested taking her into good service. One never knows."

"I think she'd have mentioned it in her letters if she'd talked to the lady much, my lord. It's wonderful what a lot of things she'd find to tell me about the customers. And I don't think she'd be for going into service again. We got real fed up with service, down in Leahampton."

"Ah, yes. Now that brings us to quite a different point--the thing we wanted to ask you or your sister about before this sad accident took place. You were in service with this Miss Whittaker whom you mentioned just now. I wonder if you'd mind telling us just exactly why you left. It was a good place, I suppose?"

"Yes, my lord, quite a good place as places go, though of course a girl doesn't get her freedom the way she does in a restaurant. And naturally there was a good deal of waiting on the old lady. Not as we minded that, for she was a very kind, good lady, and generous too."

"But when she became so ill, I suppose Miss Whittaker managed everything, what?"

"Yes, my lord; but it wasn't a hard place--lots of the girls envied us. Only Miss Whittaker was very particular."

"Especially about the china, what?"

"Ah, they told you about that, then?"

"I told 'em, dearie," put in Mrs. Gulliver. "I told 'em all about how you come to leave your place and go to London."

"You're right there, sir. Bertha--I told you she was the trusting one--she was quite ready to believe as she done wrong, and thought how good it was of Miss Whittaker to forgive her breaking the china, and take so much interest in sending us to London, but I always thought there was something more than met the eye. Didn't I, Mrs. Gulliver?"

"That you did, dear; something more than meets the eye, that's what you says to me, and what I agrees with."

"And did you, in your own mind," pursued Mr. Murbles, "connect this sudden dismissal with anything which had taken place?"

"Well, I did then," replied Mrs. Cropper, with some spirit. "I said to Bertha--but she would hear nothing of it, taking after her father as I tell you--I said, 'Mark my words,' I said, 'Miss Whittaker don't care to have us in the house after the row she had with the old lady.'"

"And what row was that?" inquired Mr. Murbles.

"Well, I don't know as I ought rightly to tell you about it, seeing it's all over now and we promised to say nothing about it."

"That, of course," said Mr. Murbles, checking Lord Peter, who was about to burst in impetuously, "depends upon your own conscience. But, if it will be of any help to you in making up your mind, I think I may say, in the strictest confidence, that this information may be of the utmost importance to us--in a roundabout way which I won't trouble you with--in investigating a very singular set of circumstances which have been brought to our notice. And it is just barely possible--again in a very roundabout way--that it may assist us in throwing some light on the melancholy tragedy of your sister's decease. Further than that I cannot go at the moment."

"Well, now," said Mrs. Cropper, "if that's so--though, mind you, I don't see what connection there could be--but if you think that's so, I reckon I'd better come across with it, as my husband would say. After all, I only promised I wouldn't mention about it to the people in Leahampton, as might have made mischief out of it--and a gossipy lot they is, and no mistake."

"We've nothing to do with the Leahampton crowd," said his lordship, "and it won't be passed along unless it turns out to be necessary."

"Righto. Well, I'll tell you. One morning early in September Miss Whittaker comes along to Bertha and I, and says, 'I want you girls to be just handy on the landing outside Miss Dawson's bedroom,' she says, 'because I may want you to come in and witness her signature to a document. We shall want two witnesses,' she says, 'and you'll have to see her sign; but I don't want to flurry her with a lot of people in the room, so when I give you the tip, I want you to come just inside the door without making a noise, so that you can see her write her name, and then I'll bring it straight across to you and you can write your names where I show you. It's quite easy,' she says, 'nothing to do but just put your names opposite where you see the word Witnesses.'

"Bertha was always a bit the timid sort--afraid of documents and that sort of thing, and she tried to get out of it. 'Couldn't Nurse sign instead of me?' she says. That was Nurse Philliter, you know, the red-haired one as was the doctor's fianc?e. She was a very nice woman, and we liked her quite a lot. 'Nurse has gone out for her walk,' says Miss Whittaker, rather sharp, 'I want you and Evelyn to do it,' meaning me, of course. Well, we said we didn't mind, and Miss Whittaker goes upstairs to Miss Dawson with a whole heap of papers, and Bertha and I followed and waited on the landing, like she said."

"One moment," said Mr. Murbles, "did Miss Dawson often have documents to sign?"

"Yes, sir, I believe so, quite frequently, but they was usually witnessed by Miss Whittaker or the nurse. There was some leases and things of that sort, or so I heard. Miss Dawson had a little house-property. And then there'd be the cheques for the housekeeping, and some papers as used to come from the Bank, and be put away in the safe."

"Share coupons and so on, I suppose," said Mr. Murbles.

"Very likely, sir, I don't know much about those business matters. I did have to witness a signature once, I remember, a long time back, but that was different. The paper was brought down to me with the signature ready wrote. There wasn't any of this to-do about it."

"The old lady was capable of dealing with her own affairs, I understand?"

"Up till then, sir. Afterwards, as I understood, she made it all over to Miss Whittaker--that was just before she got feeble-like, and was kept under drugs. Miss Whittaker signed the cheques then."

"The power of attorney," said Mr. Murbles, with a nod. "Well now, did you sign this mysterious paper?"

"No, sir, I'll tell you how that was. When me and Bertha had been waiting a little time, Miss Whittaker comes to the door and makes us a sign to come in quiet. So we comes and stands just inside the door. There was a screen by the head of the bed, so we couldn't see Miss Dawson nor she us, but we could see her reflection quite well in a big looking-glass she had on the left side of the bed."

Mr. Murbles exchanged a significant glance with Lord Peter.

"Now be sure you tell us every detail," said Wimsey, "no matter how small and silly it may sound. I believe this is goin' to be very excitin'."

"Yes, my lord. Well, there wasn't much else, except that just inside the door, on the left-hand side as you went in, there was a little table, where Nurse mostly used to set down trays and things that had to go down, and it was cleared, and a piece of blotting-paper on it and an inkstand and pen, all ready for us to sign with."

"Could Miss Dawson see that?" asked Mr. Murbles.

"No, sir, because of the screen."

"But it was inside the room."

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