Death of a Peer

“I suppose you’ve heard,” said Colin, “that Mr. Grumball’s gone.”

“And his name is Grimball,” said Stephen.

“He went,” explained Patch, “because Daddy’s all hotsy-totsy now as regards money.”

“You don’t suppose, do you,” said Henry, “that Uncle G.’s hoarded gold becomes ours in the flash of an eye? There are death duties, my child.”

“What are death duties?”

None of the Lampreys seemed to know the answer to Patch’s question. Even Henry, though vaguely depressing, was uninformed.

“Oh, well,” said Patch, “there’s always Aunt Kit’s money from the pearls she popped. Perhaps that’ll square the death duties.”

“Or pay for learned counsel to defend one of us,” said Frid.

“You would think of that, Frid,” said Henry.

“Well, let’s face it, one of us may—”

“Pas pour le jeune homme,” said Colin.

“I know what that means,” said Mike. “But you needn’t worry. Chief Detective-Inspector Alleyn’ll solve the mystery sometime to-day, I should think. Robin, did you know Chief Detective-Inspector Alleyn happened to have rather an important talk with me last night?”

“Did he, Mikey? That was fun, wasn’t it?”

“Not bad. He happened to want to know one or two things and I happened to remember them. I must say he’s an absolute whizzer. Well,” added Mike, “I mean he’s the kind of person another person knows bang off for a whizzer. You can kind of recognize it. I say, Robin, do you know he hadn’t got his magernifying-glass with him and I happened to be able to lend him mine? I bet he finds some pretty hot clues with my magernifying-glass. Hoo!” said Mike, kicking the leg of his chair, “I bet old B-K’s chops fall when I tell him about the magernifying-glass. ”

“Who’s old B-K?”

“A person,” said Mike. “As a matter of fac’ it’s Benham-Kaye in my form at school. He’s pretty high-hat. I bet he won’t be so high-hat when I tell him—”

“Your conversation,” said Frid, “is like a round of catch sung by one person only.”

“What did you tell Mr. Alleyn, Mike?” asked Henry.

“Oh, about when the skewer was in the hall and when it wasn’t and who I saw and when. He said I was a pretty good witness.”

“Robin,” said Henry, “it’s half-past five. I think we should return to duty.” ii

The return trip to Brummell Street was not quite so satisfactory. Henry, having borrowed a little money from Na

“Which room?” Henry asked.

“The green drawing-room, my lord. On the second landing.”

“Upstairs?” said Henry dubiously.

“Her ladyship wished the green drawing-room, my lord.”

“Is her ladyship dining, Moffatt?”

“Not downstairs, my lord. In her room.”

“How is she, do you know?”

“I–I understand not very well, my lord. Miss Tinkerton tells me not very well. If it is convenient, my lord, perhaps the nurse on duty may dine with you.”

“Oh, lord, yes.” said Henry.

Tinkerton appeared in the shadows at the far end of the hall. Henry hailed her and asked after her mistress. She came nearer and with a glance at the stairs replied in a whisper that Lady Wutherwood was not well. Very restless and strange, she added and, as Henry said no more, glided away into the shadows.

“Very restless and strange,” Henry repeated gloomily. “That’s jolly.”

A clock in the rear of the hall struck six. At the moment, in Lady Wutherwood’s bedroom at Deepacres, Alleyn looked up from a copy of the Compendium Maleficorum.

“Fox,” he said, “how many men did we leave at Brummell Street?”

“One, sir. Campbell. The house is being watched.” And staring at his superior’s face, Fox asked: “What’s wrong?”

Alleyn’s long finger went out in that familiar gesture. “Read that.”

Fox put on his glasses and bent over the Compendium. “THE SECOND BOOK,” he read, “DEALING WITH THE VARIOUS KINDS OF WITCHCRAFT AND CERTAIN OTHER MATTERS WHICH SHOULD BE KNOWN.”

“Go on.”

“CHAPTER I. OF SOPORIFIC SPELLS. ARGUMENT.” Fox read on in his best police-court ma

“There are several more works on witchcraft down in the library. Some of them are very rare. Yes, I think it’s given her ideas, Fox. I’m wondering if we’ve bumped our heads on the keystone of her behaviour. How soon can we get back?”

“To London? Not before eleven thirty, sir.”

“Damn. Fox, I’ve got a very rum notion, so rum that I’m half ashamed of it. I believe I know why she wanted his body brought home.”

“Lor’!” said Fox. “You don’t think she would get up to any of these capers?”

“I wouldn’t put it past her. I’m uneasy. Fox. Pricking of the thumbs or something. When are they delivering the goods? About ten, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir. The mortuary van—”

“Yes, I know. Let’s get back to London.” iii

It was a few minutes after ten when they brought Uncle G. to Brummell Street. Henry and Roberta were in the library. The rain made a great drumming noise on the windows and the wind soughed in the chimney but they were at once aware of new sounds inside the house and Henry said: “You stay here, Robin. I’ll come back soon.”

He went out, shutting the door but not shutting away the heavy sounds of Uncle G.’s progress across the great hall and up the long stairway. Roberta sat on the hearthrug and held her hands to the fire. Her heartbeat was faster than the bump of feet on the stairs. In their morning’s exploration she and Henry had visited the green drawing-room. It was over the library and soon the ceiling gave back to her the sound of Uncle G.’s progress. The footsteps stopped for a little while and then lost their heaviness. Now the men were coming downstairs again, crossing the hall, leaving 24 Brummell Street for the kindlier storm-swept streets. She heard the great front door close. In a little while Henry came back. He carried a tray with a decanter and two glasses.