Dorothy L. Sayers

“ It isn't a landscape any more. It's a war map."
"I know that," said Inspector Winterbottom. "I was a gunner myself."
"A painter gets just the same feeling of deadly familiarity with every line of a face he's once painted," pursued Wimsey. "And, if it's a face he hates, he hates it with a new and more irritable hatred. It's like a defective barrel-organ, everlastingly grinding out the same old maddening tune, and making the same damned awful wrong note every time the barrel goes round." ”

“ He rose to his feet, his napkin in his hand.
"Sir," said the count, turning to him, "I have on my right a most admirable judge of wine, but you are unique." He motioned to Pierre, who solemnly brought forward the empty bottles, unswathed now, from the humble Chablis to the stately Napoleon, with the imperial seal blown in the glass. "Every time you have been correct as to growth and year. There cannot be six men in the world with such a palate as yours, and I thought that but one of them was an Englishman. Will you not favour us, this time, with your real name?" ”

“ A tall, thin man rose up unexpectedly from the depths of an arm-chair and confronted him.
"Hold hard, old man!"
"Good God!" said Haviland, stepping heavily back on Wimsey's toes. "Martin!"
"Sure," said the other. "Here I am. Come back like a bad half-penny. How are you?"
"So you're at the bottom of this!" stormed Haviland. "I might have known it. You damned, dirty hound! I suppose you think it's decent to drag your father out of his coffin and tote him about the country like a circus. It's degrading. It's disgusting. It's abominable. You must be perfectly dead to all decent feeling. ”

“ Ethics and sociology, the latest vortices of the Whirligig school of verse, combine with the smoke of countless cigarettes to produce an inspissated atmosphere, through which flat, angular mural paintings dimly lower upon the revellers. There is painfully little room for the elbows, or indeed for any part of one's body. Lord Peter—his feet curled under his chair to avoid the stray kicks of the heavy brogues opposite him—was acutely conscious of an unbecoming attitude and an overheated feeling about the head. He found it difficult to get any response from Hannah Marryat. ”

“ It is the furnace of the laboratory, the only living and modern thing among the old and dying; the only place tended and loved, petted and spoiled, heir to the long solicitude which counts of a more light-hearted day had given to stable and kennel, portrait-gallery and ballroom. And below, in the cool cellar, lie row upon row the dusty bottles, each an enchanted glass coffin in which the Sleeping Beauty of the vine grows ever more ravishing in sleep.
As the Peugeot came to a standstill in the courtyard, the driver observed with considerable surprise that he was not the count's only visitor. ”

“ Frequently, with a deep grief like this, the presence of other people is merely an irritant. He begged me to leave him."
"Then for God's sake go back to him," said Peter.
"Really, Lord Peter," said the doctor, "I think I ought to know what is best for my patient."
"Doctor," said Wimsey, "this is not a question of your patient. A crime has been committed."
"But there is no mystery."
"There are twenty mysteries. For one thing, when was the window-cleaner here last?"
"The window-cleaner?"
"Who shall fathom the ebony-black enigma of the window-cleaner?" ”

“ Overhead the noise of the gramophone and the shuffling of feet bore witness that the dance was going on. Stray passers-by crossing the Heath noted that the people in the lonely house were making a night of it again.
"Well," said Wimsey, "am I to go on?"
From beneath the mask the President's voice sounded as though he were grimly smiling.
"My lord," he said, "your story fills me with regret that you are not, in fact, a member of our Society. Wit, courage, and industry are valuable to an association like ours. I fear I cannot persuade you? ”

“ The deep, harsh old voice pleased Lord Peter. He could see the imperious face and upright figure of what had been the most famous beauty in the London of the 'sixties.
"It's Peter Wimsey, duchess."
"Indeed, and how do you do, young man? Back from your Continental jaunting?"
"Just home—and longing to lay my devotion at the feet of the most fascinating lady in England."
"God bless my soul, child, what do you want?" demanded the duchess. "Boys like you don't flatter an old woman for nothing." ”

“ Ormerod sent me with a message to him, I was glad to get out of the room again. Humiliating, it was, the way he'd speak to you. I don't care if he's dead or not; being dead doesn't make a person's past behaviour any better, Lord Peter. It wasn't so much the rude things he said. There's Mr. Birkett, for example; he's rude enough, but nobody minds him. He's just like a big, blundering puppy—rather a lamb, really. It was Mr. Plant's nasty sneering way we all hated so. And he was always running people down."
"How about this portrait?" asked Wimsey. ”

“ This is a real adventure!"
"All right," said Wimsey. "Fifteen men on the dead man's chest, and all that! Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of Johnny Walker! Pirate expedition fitted out in dead of night to seek hidden treasure and explore the Fortunate Isles! Come on, crew!"
Lord Peter hitched the leaky dinghy to the dragon's knobbly tail and climbed out carefully, for the base of the fountain was green and weedy.
"I'm afraid it's your job to sit there and bail, Gherkins," he said. "All the best captains bag the really interesting jobs for themselves. We'd better start with the head. ”

“ Jogging down the winding Essex lanes in the wintry sunshine, Wimsey felt soothed and happy. A good burst across the common raised his spirits to exhilaration pitch. He had entirely forgotten Dead Man's Post and its uncanny reputation, when a violent start and swerve, so sudden that it nearly unseated him, recalled him to what he was doing. With some difficulty, he controlled Polly Flinders, and brought her to a standstill.
He was at the highest point of the common, following a bridle-path which was bordered on each side by gorse and dead bracken. ”

“ Whatever old Burdock may or may not have intended by that iniquitous will of his, it's quite evident that Hubbard and Mortimer and Rawlinson were entirely in the wrong. Upon my word, I've no idea whether it's an indictable offence to steal a body. I must look it up. But I should say it was. If there is any property in a corpse, it must belong to the family or the executors. And in any case, it's sacrilege, to say nothing of the scandal in the parish. I must say, Hancock, it won't do us any good in the eyes of the Nonconformists. ”

“ Storey leapt to his feet with a shriek, flinging his arms across the opening of the bag as though to hide its contents.
"How did you get that?" he screamed. "Eaton Socon? It—I never——"
"It's mine," said Wimsey quietly, as the wretched man sank back, realising that he had betrayed himself. "Some jewellery of my mother's. What did you think it was?"
Detective Parker touched his charge gently on the shoulder.
"You needn't answer that," he said. "I arrest you, Philip Storey, for the murder of your wife. Anything that you say may be used against you." ”

“ In a slightly embarrassing silence the huge, round-bellied balloon glasses were set upon the table, and the few precious drops poured gently into each and set lightly swinging to release the bouquet.
"This," said Peter I, charmed again into amiability, "is, indeed, a wonderful old French brandy. Half a century old, I suppose."
"Your lordship's praise lacks warmth," replied Bredon. "This is the brandy—the brandy of brandies—the superb—the incomparable—the true Napoleon. It should be honoured like the emperor it is." ”

“ Parker, demanding that something should be done; while the butler, who never to the day of his death got over the disgrace, ran out of the pantry with a corkscrew in one hand and a priceless bottle of crusted port in the other, which he shook with all the vehemence of a town-crier ringing a bell. The only dignified entry was made by the dowager duchess, who came down like a ship in sail, dragging Célestine with her, and admonishing her not to be so silly.
"Be quiet, girl," said the dowager. "Anyone would think you were going to be murdered." ”

“ You have come at last to select the diamonds for the future Lady Peter, eh?"
"Not yet," said Wimsey.
"No? That's too bad. You should make haste and settle down. It is time you became a family man. Years ago we arranged I should have the privilege of decking the bride for the happy day. That is a promise, you know. I think of it when the fine stones pass through my hands. I say, 'That would be the very thing for my friend Lord Peter.' But I hear nothing, and I sell them to stupid Americans who think only of the price and not of the beauty." ”

“ The count looked sharply at him, but made no comment.
"Have another olive," said Peter I kindly. "You can't judge wine if your mind is on other flavours."
"Thanks frightfully," said Bredon. "And that reminds me——" He launched into a rather pointless story about olives, which lasted out the soup and bridged the interval to the entrance of an exquisitely cooked sole.
The count's eye followed the pale amber wine rather thoughtfully as it trilled into the glasses. Bredon raised his in the approved manner to his nostrils, and his face flushed a little. ”

“ Its glittering panels were embellished with a coat of arms, and the count's elderly servant was at that moment staggering beneath the weight of two large and elaborate suit-cases, bearing in silver letters that could be read a mile away the legend: "Lord Peter Wimsey."
The Peugeot driver gazed with astonishment at this display, and grinned sardonically. "Lord Peter seems rather ubiquitous in this country," he observed to himself. Then, taking pen and paper from his bag, he busied himself with a little letter-writing. ”

“ Jacques Sans-culotte gave vent to a low oath and cocked a gamin grimace at Peter.
"C'est parfait," said he; "toutes mes félicitations, milord, what you call a fair cop, hein? And now I know him," he added, grinning at Bunter, "the so-patient Englishman who stand behind us in the queue at St. Lazare. But tell me, please, how you know me, that I may correct it, next time."
"I have mentioned to you before, Charles," said Lord Peter, "the unwisdom of falling into habits of speech. They give you away. Now, in France, every male child is brought up to use masculine adjectives about himself. ”

“ A melancholy, grey-haired man, temporary head of the studio, vice Coreggio Plant, deceased, took Crowder aside, with a muttered apology, to give him some instructions about adapting a whole quad to an eleven-inch treble. Hardy turned to Lord Peter.
"It's damned ugly," he said. "Is it good?"
"Brilliant," said Wimsey. "You can go all out. Say what you like about it."
"Oh, splendid! Could we discover one of our neglected British masters?"
"Yes; why not? You'll probably make the man the fashion and ruin him as an artist, but that's his pigeon." ”

“ Sylvia is being married in a fortnight's time, to that stupid son of Attenbury's."
"Abcock?"
"Yes. He keeps the worst hunters I ever saw, and doesn't know still champagne from sauterne. But Sylvia is stupid, too, poor child, so I dare say they will get on charmingly. In my day one had to have either brains or beauty to get on—preferably both. Nowadays nothing seems to be required but a total lack of figure. But all the sense went out of society with the House of Lords' veto. I except you, Peter. You have talents. It is a pity you do not employ them in politics." ”

“ Varden took the proffered hand, but was speechless.
"D'you mean to say, you mad mystery-monger, that you were Varden's Great Unknown?" demanded Bayes. "Ah, well," he added rudely, "we might have guessed it from his vivid description."
"Well, since you're here," said Smith-Hartington, the Morning Yell man, "I think you ought to come across with the rest of the story."
"Was it just a joke?" asked Judson.
"Of course not," interrupted Pettifer, before Lord Peter had time to reply. "Why should it be? Wimsey's seen enough queer things not to have to waste his time inventing them." ”

“ They ride in a baffled fury, hating each other. They arrive with shattered nerves and fight for parking places. They return, blinded by the headlights of fresh arrivals, whom they hate even worse than they hate each other. And all the time the Great North Road winds away like a long, flat, steel-grey ribbon—a surface like a race-track, without traps, without hedges, without side-roads, and without traffic. True, it leads to nowhere in particular; but, after all, one pub is very much like another.
The tarmac reeled away, mile after mile. ”

“ A murmur of agreement went round the table.
"You hear," said the President, addressing Wimsey. "The Society offers you the privilege of a quick death in return for the combination of the safe and the secret of the inner door."
"I have your word for it?"
"You have."
"Thank you. And my mother and sister?"
"If you in your turn will give us your word—you are a man of honour—that these women know nothing that could harm us, they shall be spared."
"Thank you, sir. You may rest assured, upon my honour, that they know nothing. ”

“ Varden had started life as a professional athlete, but a strained heart had obliged him to cut short a brilliant career, and turn his handsome face and remarkably beautiful body to account in the service of the cinema screen. He had come to London from Los Angeles to stimulate publicity for his great new film, Marathon, and turned out to be quite a pleasant, unspoiled person—greatly to the relief of the club, since Masterman's guests were apt to be something of a toss-up. ”

“ He knew nothing about this iniquitous will, and he naturally saw to it that the funeral arrangements were carried out in the usual way. You must settle the future amicably between you, just as you would have done had the will not been accidentally mislaid. Now, Martin—and Haviland too—think it over. My dear boys, this scene is simply appalling. It really must not happen. Surely the estate can be divided up in a friendly manner between you. It is horrible that an old man's body should be a bone of contention between his own sons, just over a matter of money. ”

“ The moon, a few days past the full, was riding high among small, windy clouds, and picked out the sharp eaves of the Chinese tea-houses and the straggling tops of the unpruned shrubs. 'Old Cut-throat' and his landscape-gardening! Wimsey could have fancied that the old pirate was sitting now beside his telescope in the preposterous pagoda, chuckling over his riddling testament and counting the craters of the moon. "If Luna, there is silver." ”

“ Abrahams. "Business is business. Always delighted to oblige you. Beautiful stones—beautiful. If you thought of being the purchaser, I would charge you a special commission, as my friend."
"Thank you," said Wimsey, "but as yet I have no occasion for diamonds, you know."
"Pity, pity," said Mr. Abrahams. "Well, very glad to have been of service to you. You are not interested in rubies? No? Because I have something very pretty here."
He thrust his hand casually into a pocket, and brought out a little pool of crimson fire like a miniature sunset. ”

“ So the painter painted the portrait as he saw it, and he put the man's whole creeping, sneering, paltry soul on the canvas for everybody to see."
Inspector Winterbottom stared at the portrait, and the portrait sneered back at him.
"It's not what you'd call a flattering picture, certainly," he admitted.
"Now, when a painter paints a portrait of anybody," went on Wimsey, "that person's face is never the same to him again. It's like—what shall I say? Well, it's like the way a gunner, say, looks at a landscape where he happens to be posted. He doesn't see it as a landscape. ”

“ Anything in the nature of a problem always fascinated him.
"You were back pretty late, by the way," said Mr. Frobisher-Pym jovially, as they left the house. "Yarning over old times, I suppose."
"We were, indeed," said Wimsey.
"Hope the old girl carried you all right. Lonely bit of road, isn't it? I don't suppose you saw anybody worse than yourself, as the saying goes?"
"Only a policeman," said Wimsey untruthfully. He had not yet quite decided about the phantom coach. No doubt Plunkett would be relieved to know that he was not the only person to whom the "warning" had come. ”

“ A good girl, and her father is in a very good position. We are all very pleased, I can tell you. Moses is a good son, a very good son, and I am taking him into partnership."
"I congratulate you," said Wimsey heartily. "I hope they will be very happy."
"Thank you, Lord Peter. They will be happy, I am sure. Rachel is a sweet girl and very fond of children. And she is pretty, too. Prettiness is not everything, but it is an advantage for a young man in these days. It is easier for him to behave well to a pretty wife."
"True," said Wimsey. "I will bear it in mind when my time comes. ”

“ Beat him, you! He is trying to gain time."
"If you beat me," said Wimsey, "I'm damned if I'll speak at all. Control yourself, madame; it does not do to move hastily when your king is in check."
"Get on!' she cried again, stamping with rage.
"Where was I? Ah! the inner compartment. As I say, it is a little snug—the more so that it is not ventilated in any way. Did I mention that the book lay on a steel shelf?"
"You did."
"Yes. The steel shelf is balanced on a very delicate concealed spring. When the weight of the book—a heavy one, as I said—is lifted, the shelf rises almost imperceptibly. ”

“ Wimsey waited quietly, his hands in his pockets.
The rush did not come. With a furious gesture, Melville pulled out his keys and unlocked his dressing-case.
"Take them," he growled, flinging a small parcel on the table; "you've got me. Take 'em and go to hell."
"Eventually—why not now?" murmured his lordship. "Thanks frightfully. Man of peace myself, you know—hate unpleasantness and all that." He scrutinised his booty carefully, running the stones expertly between his fingers. Over the portrait he pursed up his lips. "Yes," he murmured, "that would have made a row." ”

“ He stood up, with a violent gesture.
"You must not sit here," said Hartman firmly. "I will give you something to take, and you must try to keep calm. Then we will leave you, but if you don't control yourself——"
After some further persuasion, Brotherton allowed himself to be led away.
"Bunter," said Lord Peter, as the kitchen door closed behind them, "do you know why I am doubtful about the success of those rat experiments?"
"Meaning Mr. Hartman's, my lord?"
"Yes. Dr. Hartman has a theory. In any investigations, my Bunter, it is most damnably dangerous to have a theory." ”