Dorothy L. Sayers

“ I think Lord Peter Wimsey ought to see—the correctness of his deductions—Lord Peter—very painful—you may wish to see—yes, I was uneasy at the inquest—yes—Lady Levy—remarkably clear evidence—yes—most shocking case—ah, here's Mr. Parker—you and Lord Peter Wimsey entirely justified—do I really understand—? Really? I can hardly believe it—so distinguished a man—as you say, when a great brain turns to crime—yes—look here! ”

“ Levett."
"It's all in the day's work," said Mr. Levett, hoarsely. He was muffled to the eyes.
The sound of the spades for many minutes. An iron noise of tools thrown down. Demons stooping and straining.
A black-bearded spectre at your elbow. Introduced. The Master of the Workhouse.
"A very painful matter, Lord Peter. You will forgive me for hoping you and Mr. Parker may be mistaken."
"I should like to be able to hope so too."
Something heaving, straining, coming up out of the ground.
"Steady, men. This way. Can you see? Be careful of the graves—they lie pretty thick hereabouts. Are you ready?" ”

“ Then they told Sugg he had overstepped his duty and ought to have been more careful. So he ought, but he can't help being a fool. I was sorry for him. It may do him some good to be in at the death. After all, Peter, you and I had special advantages."
"Yes. Well, it doesn't matter. Whoever goes won't get there in time. Sugg's as good as another."
But Sugg—an experience rare in his career—was in time.
Parker and Lord Peter were at 110 Piccadilly. Lord Peter was playing Bach and Parker was reading Origen when Sugg was announced.
"We've got our man, sir," said he.
"Good God!" said Peter. "Alive?" ”