Lord Peter Views the Body by Dorothy L. Sayers Read Free Book Online

affectionate handgrip.
        ‘All serene so far?’ he enquired.
        ‘Perfectly O.K.’
        ‘You got my note?’
        ‘Sure thing. I’ve got three of our men shadowing your friend in Guildford Street. The girl is very much in evidence here. Does the old lady’s wig and that sort of thing. Bit of a coming-on disposition, isn’t she?’
        ‘You surprise me,’ said Lord Peter. ‘No’ – as his friend grinned sardonically – ‘you really do. Not seriously? That would throw all my calculations out.’
        ‘Oh, no! Saucy with her eyes and her tongue, that’s all.’
        ‘Do her job well?’
        ‘I’ve heard no complaints. What put you on to this?’
        ‘Pure accident. Of course I may be mistaken.’
        ‘Did you receive any information from Paris?’
        ‘I wish you wouldn’t use that phrase,’ said Lord Peter peevishly. ‘It’s so of the Yard – yardy. One of these days it’ll give you away.’
        ‘Sorry,’ said Parker. ‘Second nature, I suppose.’
        ‘Those are the things to beware of,’ returned his lordship, with an earnestness that seemed a little out of place. ‘One can keep guard on everything but just those second-nature tricks.’ He moved across to the window, which overlooked the tradesmen’s entrance. ‘Hullo!’ he said, ‘here’s our bird.’
        Parker joined him, and saw the neat, shingled head of the French girl from the Gare St Lazare, topped by a neat black bandeau and bow. A man with a basket full of white narcissi had rung the bell, and appeared to be trying to make a sale. Parker gently opened the window, and they heard Célestine say with a marked French accent, ‘No, nossing today, sank you.’ The man insisted in the monotonous whine of his type, thrusting a big bunch of the white flowers upon her, but she pushed them back into the basket with an angry exclamation and flirted away, tossing her head and slapping the door smartly to. The man moved off muttering. As he did so a thin, unhealthy-looking lounger in a check cap detached himself from a lamppost opposite and mouched along the street after him, at the same time casting a glance up at the window. Mr Parker looked at Lord Peter, nodded, and made a slight sign with his hand. At once the man in the check cap removed his cigarette from his mouth, extinguished it, and, tucking the stub behind his ear, moved off without a second glance.
        ‘Very interesting,’ said Lord Peter, when both were out of sight. ‘Hark!’
        There was a sound of running feet overhead – a cry – and a general commotion. The two men dashed to the door as the bride, rushing frantically downstairs with her bevy of bridesmaids after her, proclaimed in a hysterical shriek: ‘The diamonds! They’re stolen! They’re gone!’
        Instantly the house was in an uproar. The servants and the caterers’ men crowded into the hall; the bride’s father burst out from his room in a magnificent white waistcoat and no coat; the Duchess of Medway descended upon Mr Parker, demanding that something should be done; while the butler, who never to the day of his death got over the disgrace, ran out of the pantry with a corkscrew in one hand and a priceless bottle of crusted port in the other, which he shook with all the vehemence of a town-crier ringing a bell. The only dignified entry was made by the dowager duchess, who came down like a ship in sail, dragging Célestine with her, and admonishing her not to be so silly.
        ‘Be quiet, girl,’ said the dowager. ‘Anyone would think you were going to be murdered.’
        ‘Allow me, your grace,’ said Mr Bunter, appearing suddenly from nowhere in his usual unperturbed manner, and taking the agitated Célestine firmly by the arm. ‘Young woman, calm yourself.’
        ‘But what is to be done ?’ cried the bride’s mother. ‘How did it happen?’
        It was at this moment that Detective-Inspector Parker took the floor.