Lord Peter Wimsey

“ You're Lord Peter Wimsey, I know. We've got an interest in crime in common, haven't we? I'm interested in this glandular theory. It may throw a great light on some of our heart-breaking problems."
"Glad to see there's no antagonism between religion and science," said Wimsey.
"Of course not. Why should there be? We are all searching for Truth."
"And all these?" asked Wimsey, indicating the curious crowd with a wave of the hand.
"In their way. They mean well. They do what they can, like the woman in the Gospels, and they are surprisingly generous. Here's Penberthy, looking for you, I fancy. ”

“ Frobisher-Pym, "who discovered your—I'm afraid, Burdock, I must agree with your brother in calling it your disgraceful plot."
"Oh, Lord!" said Martin. "I say, Mortimer, you didn't know you were up against Lord Peter Wimsey, did you? No wonder the cat got out of the bag. The man's known to be a perfect Sherlock. However, I seem to have got home at the crucial moment, so there's no harm done. Diana, this is Lord Peter Wimsey—my wife." ”

“ The will of Lord Peter Wimsey, who was killed last December while shooting big game in Tanganyika, was proved yesterday at £500,000. A sum of £10,000 was left to various charities, including [here followed a list of bequests] . To his valet, Mervyn Bunter, was left an annuity of £500 and the lease of the testator's flat in Piccadilly. [Then followed a number of personal bequests.] The remainder of the estate, including the valuable collection of books and pictures at 110A Piccadilly, was left to the testator's mother, the Dowager Duchess of Denver. ”

“ Bredon," said the count, "I am charmed to have the pleasure of making your acquaintance, and regret that I must at once call upon you for a service as singular as it is important. You have presented to me a letter of introduction from your cousin, Lord Peter Wimsey. Will you now be good enough to inform me which of these gentlemen he is?"
Bredon let his glance pass slowly from the one claimant to the other, meditating what answer would best serve his own ends. One, at any rate, of the men in this room was a formidable intellect, trained in the detection of imposture. ”

“ Go away, Wimsey, and play us the ‘Beggar’s Opera,’ or something.”
“That’s good enough, isn’t it?” said Lord Peter, when the happy Mr. Piggott had been despatched home after a really delightful evening.
“I’m afraid so,” said Parker. “But it seems almost incredible.”
“There’s nothing incredible in human nature,” said Lord Peter; “at least, in educated human nature. Have you got that exhumation order?”
“I shall have it tomorrow. I thought of fixing up with the workhouse people for tomorrow afternoon. I shall have to go and see them first.” ”

“ Frobisher-Pym, with playful reproof. "If it goes on like this they will have a bad day for the funeral."
Lord Peter Wimsey glanced out of the morning-room window to the soaked green lawn and the shrubbery, where the rain streamed down remorselessly over the laurel leaves, stiff and shiny like mackintoshes.
"Nasty exposed business, standing round at funerals," he agreed.
"Yes, I always think it's such a shame for the old people. In a tiny village like this it's about the only pleasure they get during the winter. It makes something for them to talk about for weeks." ”

“ 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." ”

“ The incomparable Sugg has made a discovery and arrested little Thipps. Old lady abandoned in the flat. Thipps’s last shriek to her: ‘Tell Lord Peter Wimsey.’ Old girl undaunted. Wrestles with telephone book. Wakes up the people at the exchange. Won’t take no for an answer (not bein’ able to hear it) , gets through, says: ‘Will I do what I can?’ Says she would feel safe in the hands of a real gentleman. Oh, Parker, Parker! I could kiss her, I reely could, as Thipps says. I’ll write to her instead—no, hang it, Parker, we’ll go round. Bunter, get your infernal machine and the magnesium. ”

“ Now, about this Thomas Owen——"
"Oh," cried Lord Peter Wimsey, "never mind Thomas Owen. He's not the man you want. You can't suppose that a bloke who'd committed a murder would want a fellow tailin' after him to Birmingham with the head. It stands to reason that was intended to stay in Paddington cloakroom till the ingenious perpetrator had skipped, or till it was unrecognisable, or both. Which, by the way, is where we'll find those family heirlooms of mine, which your engaging friend Mr. Owen lifted out of my car. ”

“ This is Lord Peter Wimsey—a very old friend of mine; that is to say, I'm a very old friend of his; ha, ha!"
"Good morning, sir; good morning, your lordship. I'm sure Plunkett will be very pleased to see you. Please step in. Plunkett, here's Mr. Pym to see you."
The elderly man who sat crouching over the fire turned a mournful face towards them, and half rose, touching his forehead.
"Well, now, Plunkett, what's the trouble?" enquired Mr. Frobisher-Pym, with the hearty bedside manner adopted by country gentlefolk visiting their dependants. "Sorry not to see you out and about. ”

“ But if you ask me to believe that a responsible man like Mortimer would purloin a corpse and desecrate a church—the thing only has to be put into plain words to show how absurd and unthinkable it is. I suppose Lord Peter Wimsey, who consorts, as I understand, with criminals and police officers, finds the idea conceivable. I can only say that I do not. I am sorry that his mind should have become so blunted to all decent feeling. That's all. Good afternoon."
Mr. Frobisher-Pym jumped up.
"Come, come, Burdock, don't take that attitude. I am sure Lord Peter intended no discourtesy. ”

“ Appledore, "He called on me, sir, with an anti-vivisectionist pamphlet"—all these things and many others rang together and made one sound, they swung together like bells in a steeple, with the deep tenor booming through the clamour:
"The knowledge of good and evil is a phenomenon of the brain, and is removable, removable, removable. The knowledge of good and evil is removable."
Lord Peter Wimsey was not a young man who habitually took himself very seriously, but this time he was frankly appalled. ”

“ He is faithful to his friends. What have you done with him? Speak—or I will make you speak. You two, there—bring the irons. He shall speak!"
"I can only form a guess, madame," replied Wimsey, "and I shall not guess any the better for being stimulated with hot irons, like Pantaloon at the circus. Calm yourself, and I will tell you what I think. I think—indeed, I greatly fear—that Monsieur le Président in his hurry to examine the interesting exhibits in my safe may, quite inadvertently, no doubt, have let the door of the inner compartment close behind him. ”

“ Crimplesham were interrupted by the entrance of his junior partner.
“I say,” said the latter gentleman, “has somebody done something really wicked at last? Whatever brings such a distinguished amateur of crime on our sober doorstep?”
“I have been the victim of a vulgar attempt at 111 blackmail,” said the lawyer; “an individual passing himself off as Lord Peter Wimsey—”
“But that is Lord Peter Wimsey,” said Mr. Wicks, “there’s no mistaking him. I saw him give evidence in the Attenbury emerald case. ”

“ 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. ”

“ Well, as you've seen in the papers by now, we found that car all right."
Wimsey expressed his gratification at this result.
"And very much obliged I was to your lordship for the hint," went on the Inspector generously, "not but what I wouldn't say but I should have come to the same conclusion myself, given a little more time. And, what's more, we're on the track of the man."
"I see he's supposed to be foreign-looking. Don't say he's going to turn out to be a Camorrist after all!" ”

“ My own rose, my one rose, that’s you!’”
“I’m not going to stay any longer talking to you,” said the harassed Sugg; “it’s bad enough— Hullo, drat that telephone. Here, Cawthorn, go and see what it is, if that old catamaran will let you into the room. Shutting herself up there and screaming,” said the 50 Inspector, “it’s enough to make a man give up crime and take to hedging and ditching.”
The constable came back:
“It’s from the Yard, sir,” he said, coughing apologetically; “the Chief says every facility is to be given to Lord Peter Wimsey, sir. Um!” ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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." ”

“ Lord Peter Wimsey stretched himself luxuriously between the sheets provided by the Hôtel Meurice. ”

“ 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." ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ I feel it very much, as a priest and as a pastor—very much indeed."
"Oh, well, Hancock," said Mr. Frobisher-Pym, "you must make allowances, you know. Hubbard's not a bad fellow, but you can't expect refinement of feeling from a man of his class. The point is, what are we to do about it? Mr. Burdock must be told, of course. It's a most awkward situation. Dear me! Hubbard confessed the whole conspiracy, you say? How did he come to do that?"
"I taxed him with it," said the parson. "When I came to think over Lord Peter Wimsey's remarks, I was troubled in my mind. ”

“ Parker made a grimace.
“Well,” he said, “I don’t suppose you’d ever do it, so I’d better. You’ll never become a professional till you learn to do a little work, Wimsey. How about lunch?”
“I’m invited out,” said Lord Peter, magnificently. 74 “I’ll run around and change at the club. Can’t feed with Freddy Arbuthnot in these bags; Bunter!” ”

“ THE WALLET OF KAI-LUNG
"I tripped right into it," said Wimsey's voice steadily, out of the blackness. "One sinks very fast. You'd better not come near, or you'll go too. We'll yell a bit. I don't think we can be very far from Grider's Hole."
"If your lordship will keep shouting," returned Mr. Bunter, "I think—I can—get to you," he panted, untying with his teeth the hard knot of a coil of string.
"Oy!" cried Lord Peter obediently. "Help! Oy! Oy!"
Mr. Bunter groped towards the voice, feeling cautiously before him with his walking-stick.
"Wish you'd keep away, Bunter," said Lord Peter peevishly. ”