‘Bunter, my man,’ said he, ‘I think it is time you took a trip to Huntingdonshire.’
‘Very good, my lord.’
‘You will go to a place called Leamhurst, and find out all about Mr Henry Weldon, who owns a farm there.’ ‘Certainly, my lord.’
‘It’s only a small village, so you must have some reason for going there. I suggest that you purchase or hire a car and are benighted, owing to some intricate kind of engine trouble:
‘Precisely, my lord.’
‘Here is £30. If you want more, let me know.’ ‘Very good, my lord.’
‘You will, naturally, stay at the principal pub and pursue your inquiries in the bar.’
‘Naturally, my lord.’ ‘
‘You will find out everything you can about Mr Weldon, and, in particular, what his financial standing and reputation may be.’
‘Quite so, my lord.’
‘You will be as quick as you can about it, and return here as soon as possible.’
‘Very good, my lord.’—
‘You will start immediately.’ ‘Very good, my lord.’
‘Then be off!’
‘Very good, my lord. Your lordship’s dress-shirts are in the second drawer and the silk socks in the tray on the right-hand side of the wardrobe, with the dress-ties just above them.’
‘Very good, Bunter,’ said Wimsey, mechanically.
Ten minutes later, Mr Bunter, suitcase in hand, was on his way to the railway-station.
Chapter XVIII. The Evidence Of The Snake
‘There is a little, hairy, green-eyed snake,
Of voice like to the woody nightingale,
And ever singing pitifully sweet,
That nestles in the barry bones of Death,
And is his dearest friend and playfellow.’
— Death’s Jest-Book
Wednesday, 24 June
ON LEAVING the Turkish baths, Miss Harriet Vane went out on a shopping expedition. This was her second venture of the kind since her arrival in Wilvercombe, and on both occasions her purchases were dictated by the desire of pleasing a man. On this occasion, she wanted an afternoon frock. And why? She was going out for a picnic.
She had picnicked before, with Lord Peter; and for him the old tweed skirt and well-worn jumper had been good enough. But today, these garments would not do. Her appointment was with Mrs Weldon and Henry.
The curious inhibitions which caused her to be abrupt, harsh, and irritating with Lord Peter did not seem to trouble her in dealing with Henry Weldon. For him she produced a latent strain of sweet womanliness which would have surprised Wimsey. She now selected a slinky garment, composed of what male writers call ‘some soft, clinging material, with a corsage which outlined the figure and a skirt which waved tempestuously about her ankles. She enhanced its appeal with an oversized hat of which one side obscured her face and tickled her shoulder, while the other was turned back to reveal a bunch of black ringlets, skilfully curled into position by the head hairdresser at the Resplendent. High-heeled beige shoes and sheer silk stockings, with embroidered gloves and a hand-bag completed this alluring toilette, so eminently unsuitable for picnicking. In addition, she made up her face with just so much artful restraint as to suggest enormous experience aping an impossible innocence, and, thus embellished, presently took her place beside Henry in the driving-seat of Mrs Weldon’s large saloon. Mrs Weldon sat at the back of the car, with a luxurious tea-basket at her feet and a case of liquid refreshment beside her.
Henry seemed gratified by the efforts made to please him, and by Miss Vane’s openly expressed admiration of his driving. This was of a showy and ill-tempered kind, and involved ‘putting the wind up’ other users of the road. Harriet had herself driven cars, and suffered as all drivers do when being driven, but even when Henry rounded a corner very wide at fifty miles an hour and crammed a motor-cyclist into the ditch, she merely remarked (with some truth) that the speed made her feel quite nervous.
Mr Weldon, braking violently at the unexpected sight of a herd of cows nearly under his radiator, and crashing his gears as he changed down, smiled indulgently.
‘No point in these damned machines of you don’t make ’em move,’ he said. ‘Not like a horse — no life in,’em. Only useful for getting from one place to another.’
He waited while the cows dawdled by and then let his clutch in with a bang which nearly shot the liquid refreshment to the floor.
‘You don’t catch me motoring for pleasure,’ said Mr Weldon. ‘I like fresh air none of these beastly stuffy boxes and stinking petrol. Used to breed geese once — but the bottom’s dropped out of the market. Damned shame.’
Harriet agreed, and said she was so fond of horses. Life on a farm must be wonderful.
‘All right if you don’t have to make it pay,’ growled Mr Weldon.
‘I suppose it is rather hard nowadays.’
‘Damned hard,’ said Mr Weldon, adding, however — as though recollecting himself, ‘not that I have a lot to grumble at as things go:
‘No? I’m glad of that. I mean, it’s nice for you to be able to leave your work and come down here. I suppose a really well-managed farm runs itself, so to speak.’
Mr Weldon glanced at her almost as though he suspected her of some hidden meaning. She smiled innocently at him, and he said:
Well — as a matter of fact, it’s a beastly nuisance. But what can one do? Couldn’t leave my mother all by herself in this hole.’
‘Of course not; I think it’s splendid of you to come and stand by her. And besides — well, I mean, it makes such a difference to have somebody really nice to talk to.’
‘Jolly of you to say that.’
‘I mean, it must make all the difference to your mother.’ ‘Not to you, eh? Dukes and lords are good enough’ for you?
‘Oh!’ Harriet wriggled her shoulders. ‘If you mean Lord Peter he’s all right, of course, but he’s a little you know what I mean.’
‘La-di-dah!’ said Mr Weldon. ‘What’s he want to wear that silly thing in his eye for?’
‘That’s just what I feel. It isn’t manly, is it?’
‘Lot of affected nonsense,’ said Mr Weldon. Take that fellow away from his valet and his car and his evening togs, and where’d he be? Thinks he can ride, because he’s pottered round with a fashionable hunt, trampling down people’s crops and leaving the gates open. I’d like to see him—’
He broke off.
‘See him what?’
‘Oh, nothing. Don’t want to be rude to a friend of yours. I say, what’s he after down here?’
‘Well!’ Harriet smirked demurely behind the drooping brim of the preposterous hat. ‘He says he’s interested in this crime, or whatever it is.’
‘But you know better, eh?’ He nudged Harriet familiarly in the ribs. ‘I don’t blame the fellow for making the running while he can, but I do wish he wouldn’t raise false hopes in the old lady. That’s a dashed awkward hat of yours.’
‘Don’t you like it?’
‘It’s topping — suits you, down to the ground, but it does. keep a fellow at a distance. And I don’t want to shout, because my mother can hear. I say, Miss Vane.’
‘Yes?’
‘Listen!’ Henry pushed his face as far, as possible under the guard of the hat and blew his confidence on to Harriet’s cheek. ‘I wish you’d do something for me.’
‘Of course, I’d do anything I could.’
‘That’s nice of you. Do persuade this Wimsey fellow to drop it. As long as she thinks there’s anything in that Bolshie idea of hers, she’ll hang on here like grim death. It isn’t good for her — morbid, you know. Besides, she’s making an ass of herself. I want to get her away and go back to my work.’
Yes, I see. I quite understand. I’ll do my best.’
‘Good girl!’ Henry patted her encouragingly on the thigh. ‘I knew you and I’d get on like a house on fire together.’
Harriet smiled.
‘I don’t know if I sh
all be able to persuade him. He doesn’t like taking advice. You know what men are.’
‘I bet you know all right. I don’t suppose there’s much you don’t know, by jove!’’ Henry was obviously well aware that he was talking to a rather notorious young woman. He chuckled.
‘Don’t say I’ve said anything just try what you can do. I bet you can twist him round your little finger if you try, eh?
‘Oh, Mr Weldon! I hope I’m not one of those managing sort of women!’
‘You don’t need to be. You know how to get your own way, I bet. I know you could do anything you liked with me:
‘You mustn’t talk like that’
‘Mustn’t I? Can’t help it. You’ve got a way with you — haven’t you; eh?’
Harriet wished that he would not say ‘eh?’ so often. And she disliked the grossness of his voice and the coarseness of his skin and the little tufts of hair in his ears.
‘Don’t drive with one hand like that suppose anything came along suddenly.’
Henry laughed and patted her leg again.
‘That’s all right, don’t you worry. I’ll look after you, and you’ll look after me, eh? Alliance, offensive and defensive — just between you and me, eh?’
‘Oh, rather!’
‘That’s fine. And when all this stupid business is over, you must come and look Mother and me up. She’s taken a great fancy to you. Get her to bring you along to my place. You’d like it. What about it?’
‘That would be lovely!’ (If Henry wanted to be vamped, she would vamp him.) ‘One gets so tired of the kind of men one meets in London, and the stuffy, restricted, literary kind of surroundings. I don’t suppose you ever come to London, Mr Weldon?’
‘Not often. Don’t care for the place.’
‘Oh! Then it’s no good asking you to call on me.’
‘Isn’t it, though? Of course I’d come and call on you like a shot. Some inducement, eh? Where do you live?’ ‘I’ve got a little flat in Bloomsbury.’ ‘All on your own?’
Yes.’
‘Isn’t that a bit lonesome?’
‘Oh I well of course I have plenty of friends And a woman who comes in for the day. I could give you tea if you cared to come along some time to cheer me up.’
‘That would be sweet of you. We could go and do a show together or something.
‘I should enjoy that’
No — Henry was really too easy. Surely even his colossal vanity could not suppose that he had really made a conquest. Yet there he sat, smiling away and almost audibly purring. No doubt he thought that Harriet Vane was any man’s game. He really imagined that, placed between Lord Peter and himself, a woman could possibly — well, why not? How was he to know? It wouldn’t be the first time that a woman had made a foolish choice. If anything, he was paying her the compliment of supposing that she was not mercenary. Or, horrid — thought, did he expect her to be completely promiscuous?
That was it — he did! He was informing her now, in reasonably plain language, that somebody like himself would be a nice change for her and that he couldn’t make out what a fine woman like herself could see in a fellow like Wimsey. Rage rendered her speechless for a moment; then she began to feel amused. If he thought that, he could be made to believe anything. She could twist men round her little finger, could she? Then she would twist him. She would fool him to the top of his bent.
She begged him not to talk so loudly; Mrs Weldon would overhear him.
This reminder had its effect, and Henry ‘behaved himself’ until their arrival at the spot selected for the picnic compelled him to return to his former attitude of ordinary politeness.
The picnic itself passed off without any remarkable incident, and Henry did not succeed in getting Harriet to himself until, the meal was over and they went to wash up the plates in a little brook that ran close by. Even then, Harriet was able to avoid his advances by sending him to do the washing while she stood by with a dish-cloth. She ordered him about prettily and he obeyed with delighted willingness, tucking up his sleeves and getting down to the job. However, the inevitable moment arrived when he returned with the clean plates and put them into her hands. Then, seizing his opportunity he advanced upon her and clasped her with clumsy gallantry about the body. She dropped the plates and wriggled, pushing his arms away and bending her head down, so that the faithful and long-suffering hat was between them.
Damn it!’ said Henry. ‘You might let a fellow—’
It was then that Harriet became really frightened. She gave a scream which was no mockery, but a really determined yell, and followed it up with a box on the ear that was no butterfly kiss. Henry, astonished, relaxed his grasp for a moment. She broke away from him — and at that moment Mrs Weldon, attracted by the scream, came running to the top of the bank.
‘Whatever is the matter?’
‘I saw a snake!’ said Harriet, wildly. ‘I’m sure it was a viper.
She screamed again, and so did Mrs Weldon who was terrified of snakes. Henry grunting, picked up the fallen plates and told his mother not to be silly.
‘Come back to the car,’ said Mrs Weldon. ‘I won’t stay another moment in this horrid place.’
They went back to the car. Henry looked glum and injured; he felt that he had been badly treated, as indeed he had. But Harriet’s face was white enough to show that she had had a real shock, and she insisted on returning in the back of the car with Mrs Weldon, who made a great fuss over her with a smelling-bottle and ejaculations of horror and sympathy.
When they got back to Wilvercombe, Harriet was sufficiently recovered to thank Henry properly and apologise for having been so stupid. But she was still not quite herself, refused to come in to the hotel and insisted on walking back to her room at Mrs Lefranc’s. She would not allow Henry to go with her — she wouldn’t hear of it she was quite all right — the walk, would do her good. Henry, who was still offended, did not press the point. Harriet walked away, but not to Mrs Lefranc’s. She hastened to the nearest telephone-cabinet and rang up the Bellevue. Was Lord Peter Wimsey there? No, he was out; could they take a message? Yes. Would he please come round and see Miss Vane at once, the minute he came in? It was frightfully urgent. Certainly they would tell him. No, they would not forget.
Harriet went home, sat down on Paul Alexis’ chair and stared at Paul Alexis’ ikon. She really felt quite upset.
She had sat there for an hour, without removing her hat and gloves just thinking, when there was a commotion on the staircase. Feet came up two steps at a time and the door burst open so hard upon the preliminary knock as to make the knock superfluous.
‘Hullo-ullo-ullo! Here we all are. What’s up? Anything exciting? So sorry I was out — Here! I say! Hold up! It’s all right, you know — at least, it is all right, isn’t it?’
He gently extricated his arm from Harriet’s frenzied grasp and shut the door.
‘Now then! My dear, what’s happened? You’re all of a doodah!’
‘Peter! I believe I’ve been kissed by a murderer.’
‘Have you? Well, it serves you right for letting anybody kiss you but me. Good Heavens! You raise all, sorts of objections to a perfectly, amiable and reasonably virtuous man like myself, and the next thing I hear is that you, are wallowing in the disgusting embraces of a murderer. Upon my soul! I don’t know what the modern girl is coming to.’
‘He didn’t actually kiss me — he only hugged me.’
‘That’s what I said—.I said “disgusting embraces”. And what is worse, you send urgent messages to my hotel, so that you can get me here to be gloated over. It is abominable. It is repulsive. Sit down. Take off that vulgar and idiotic hat and tell me who this low-down, bone-headed, bird-witted, dissipated murderer is who can’t even keep his mind on his murdering, but rushes about the country embracing and hugging painted-faced females that don’t belong to him.’
‘Very well. Prepare for a shock. It was Haviland Martin.’
‘Haviland Martin?’
‘H
aviland Martin.’’
Wimsey walked very: deliberately to a table near the window, laid down his hat and stick upon it, drew forward a chair, placed Harriet in it, drew up a second chair, sat down in it himself, and said:
‘You win. I am astonished. I am thunderstruck. Kindly explain yourself. I thought you were out this afternoon with the Weldons.’
‘I was.’
‘Am I to understand that Haviland Martin is a friend of Henry Weldon’s?’
‘Haviland Martin is Henry Weldon’’
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