‘This is all that I have been able to discover in the short time at my disposal. (I should have mentioned that I proceeded by train to Cambridge, hiring an automobile there to sustain the character allotted to me and arriving here about Thursday noon.) If your lordship so desires, I, can remain and pursue my inquiries further. Your lordship will forgive my reminding you that it is advisable to remove the links from the shirt-cuffs before dispatching the garment to the laundry. It gives me great anxiety to feel that I may not be at hand to attend to the matter myself on Monday, and I should feel it deeply if there was any repetition of the disagreeable accident which occurred on the occasion of my last absence. I omitted to inform your lordship before leaving that the pin-stripe lounge suit must on no account be worn again until the slit in the right-hand pocket has been attended to. I cannot account for its presence, except by supposing that your lordship has inadvertently used the pocket for the transport of some heavy and sharp-edged article.
‘I trust that your lordship is enjoying favourable climatic conditions and that the investigation is progressing according to expectation. My respectful compliments to Miss Vane, and believe me, my lord,
‘Obediently yours,
‘MERVYN BUNTER.’
This document reached Wimsey on the Saturday afternoon, and in the evening he received a visit from Inspector Umpelty, to whom he submitted it.
The Inspector nodded.
‘We’ve received much the same information,’ he observed. ‘There’s a bit more detail in your man’s letter — what the deuce are pantiles? — but I think we may take it for granted that our friend Weldon is a bit up the pole financially. However, that’s not what I came round about. The fact is, we’ve found the original of that photo.’ ‘You have? The fair Feodora?’ ‘Yes,’ replied the Inspector, with modest triumph, and yet with a kind of mental reservation behind the triumph, ‘the fair Feodora — only she says she isn’t.’
Wimsey raised his eyebrows, or, to be more accurate, the one eyebrow which was not occupied in, keeping his monocle in place.
‘Then if she isn’t herself, who is she?’
‘She says she’s Olga Kohn. I’ve got her letter here.’ The Inspector rummaged in his breast pocket. ‘Writes a good letter, and in a very pretty hand, I must say.’
Wimsey took the blue sheet of paper and cocked a knowing eye at it.
‘Very dainty. As supplied by Mr Selfridge’s fancy counter to the nobility and gentry — Ornate initial “O” on, royal blue and gilt. A pretty hand, as you say, highly self-conscious. Intensely elegant envelope to match; posted in the Piccadilly district last post on Friday night, and addressed to the Wilvercombe coroner. Well, well. Let us see what the lady has to say for herself.’
259 Regent Square, Bloomsbury.
DEAR-SIR
‘I read the account of the inquest on Paul Alexis in tonight’s paper and was very much surprised to see my photograph. I can assure you that I have nothing to do with the case and I cannot imagine how the photograph came to be on the dead body or signed with a name: which is not mine. I never met anybody called Alexis that I know of and it is not my writing on the photograph. I am a mannequin by profession, so there are quite a lot of my photographs about, so I suppose somebody must have got hold of it. I am afraid I know nothing about this poor Mr Alexis so I cannot be of much help to you, but I thought I ought to write and tell you that it was my photograph which was in the paper.
‘I cannot say at all how it can have got mixed up with the case, but of course I shall be glad to tell you anything I can. The photograph was taken about a year ago by Messrs Frith of Wardour Street. I enclose another copy so that you can see it is the same. It is one I used when applying for an-engagement as mannequin, and I sent it to a great many heads of big firms, also to some theatrical agents. I am at present engaged as mannequin to Messrs Dore & Cie, of Hanover Square. I have been six months with them and they would give you references as to my character. I should be very glad to find out how the photograph got into Mr Alexis’ hands, as the gentleman to whom I am engaged is very upset about it all. Excuse me for troubling you, but I thought it right to let you know, though I am afraid I cannot be of much help.
‘Yours faithfully,
‘OLGA KOHN.’
‘And what do you make of that, my lord.’
‘God knows. The young’ woman may be lying, of course, but somehow I don’t think she is I feel that the bit about the gentleman who is very upset rings true. Olga Kohn who sounds like a Russian Jewess — is not precisely out of the top-drawer, as my mother would say, and was obviously not educated at Oxford or Cambridge, but though she repeats herself a good deal, she is businesslike, and her letter is full of useful facts. Also, if the photograph resembles her, she is easy to look at. What do you say to running up to Town.and interviewing the lady? I will provide the transport, and tomorrow being Sunday, we shall probably find her at leisure. Shall we depart, like two gay bachelors, to find Olga Feodora and take her out. to tea?’
The Inspector seemed to think that this was a good idea.
‘We will ask her if she knows Mr Henry Weldon, that squire of dames. Have you a photograph of him, by the way?’
The Inspector had an excellent snapshot, taken at the inquest by a press photographer. A wire was sent to Miss Olga Kohn, warning her of the, impending visit and, having made the necessary arrangements at the police-station, the Inspector heaved his large bulk into Wimsey’s Daimler and was transported with perilous swiftness to London. They ran-up that night, snatched a few hours of repose at Wimsey’s flat and, in the morning, set out for Regent Square.
Regent Square is anything but a high class locality being chiefly populated by grubby infants and ladies of doubtful calling, but its rents are comparatively cheap for so central a situation. On mounting to the top of a rather dark and dirty stair, Wimsey and his companion were agreeably surprised to discover a freshly-painted green door with the name ‘Miss O. Kohn’ neatly written upon a white card and attached to the panel by drawing-pins. The brass knocker, representing the Lincoln Imp, was highly polished. At its, summons; the door was opened at once by a handsome young woman, the original of, the photograph, who welcomed them in with a smile..