Lord Peter Views the Body (42 page)

    Wimsey, staggering with pain, as the blood rushed back into his bound and numbed arms, crawled after her into the room above. A moment, and, she had flung back the shutters and thrown the window open.

    ‘Now go! Release him! You promise?’

    ‘I promise. And I warn you, madame, that this house is surrounded. When my safe-door closed it gave a signal which sent my servant to Scotland Yard. Your friends are all taken—’

    ‘Ah! But you go – never mind me – quick! The time is almost up.’

    ‘Come away from this!’

    He caught her by the arm, and they went running and stumbling across the little garden. An electric torch shone suddenly in the bushes.

    ‘That you, Parker?’ cried Wimsey. ‘Get your fellows away. Quick! the house is going up in a minute.’

    The garden seemed suddenly full of shouting, hurrying men. Wimsey, floundering in the darkness, was brought up violently against the wall. He made a leap at the coping, caught it, and hoisted himself up. His hands groped for the woman; he swung her up beside him. They jumped; everyone was jumping; the woman caught her foot and fell with a gasping cry. Wimsey tried to stop himself, tripped over a stone, and came down headlong. Then, with a flash and a roar, the night went up in fire.

Wimsey picked himself painfully out from among the débris of the garden wall. A faint moaning near him proclaimed that his companion was still alive. A lantern was turned suddenly upon them.

    ‘Here you are!’ said a cheerful voice. ‘Are you all right, old thing? Good lord! what a hairy monster!’

    ‘All right,’ said Wimsey. ‘Only a bit winded. Is the lady safe? H’m – arm broken, apparently – otherwise sound. What’s happened?’

    ‘About half a dozen of ’em got blown up; the rest we’ve bagged.’ Wimsey became aware of a circle of dark forms in the wintry dawn. ‘Good Lord, what a day! What a come-back for a public character! You old stinker – to let us go on for two years thinking you were dead! I bought a bit of black for an armband. I did, really. Did anybody know, besides Bunter?’

    ‘Only my mother and sister. I put it in a secret trust – you know, the thing you send to executors and people. We shall have an awful time with the lawyers, I’m afraid, proving I’m me. Hullo! Is that friend Sugg?’

    ‘Yes, my lord,’ said Inspector Sugg, grinning and nearly weeping with excitement. ‘Damned glad to see your lordship again. Fine piece of work, your lordship. They’re all wanting to shake hands with you, sir.’

    ‘Oh, Lord! I wish I could get washed and shaved first. Awfully glad to see you all again, after two years’ exile in Lambeth. Been a good little show, hasn’t it?’

    ‘Is he safe?’

    Wimsey started at the agonised cry.

    ‘Good Lord!’ he cried. ‘I forgot the gentleman in the safe. Here, fetch the car, quickly. I’ve got the great big top Moriarty of the whole bunch quietly asphyxiating at home. Here – hop in, and put the lady in too. I promised we’d get back and save him – though’ (he finished the sentence in Parker’s ear) ‘there may be murder charges too, and I wouldn’t give much for his chance at the Old Bailey. Whack her up. He can’t last much longer shut up there. He’s the bloke you’ve been wanting, the man at the back of the Morrison case and the Hope-Wilmington case, and hundreds of others.’

The cold morning had turned the streets grey when they drew up before the door of the house in Lambeth. Wimsey took the woman by the arm and helped her out. The mask was off now, and showed her face, haggard and desperate, and white with fear and pain.

    ‘Russian, eh?’ whispered Parker in Wimsey’s ear.

    ‘Something of the sort. Damn! the front door’s blown shut, and the blighter’s got the key with him in the safe. Hop through the window, will you?’

    Parker bundled obligingly in, and in a few seconds threw open the door to them. The house seemed very still. Wimsey led the way to the back room, where the strong-room stood. The outer door and the second door stood propped open with chairs. The inner door faced them like a blank green wall.

    ‘Only hope he hasn’t upset the adjustment with thumping at it,’ muttered Wimsey. The anxious hand on his arm clutched feverishly. He pulled himself together, forcing his tone to one of cheerful commonplace.

    ‘Come on, old thing,’ he said, addressing himself conversationally to the door. ‘Show us your paces. Open Sesame, confound you. Open Sesame!’

    The green door slid suddenly away into the wall. The woman sprang forward and caught in her arms the humped and senseless thing that rolled out from the safe. Its clothes were torn to ribbons, and its battered hands dripped blood.

    ‘It’s all right,’ said Wimsey, ‘it’s all right! He’ll live – to stand his trial.’

NOTES TO THE SOLUTION

       
Or to any loud cry.’

       
             
The Hunting of the Snark
.

       
Is not what they supposes,

       
But more than mind discloses

       
And more than men believe.’

       
              G. K. Chesterton:

       
             
The Song of Quoodle
.

2.VI.

EST: = est and non est – the problem of being and not-being. Ref. Marlowe: Doctor Faustus I.1.

THE SOLUTION OF THE CROSS-WORD PUZZLE IN “UNCLE MELEAGER’S WILL”