Left alone in the kitchen, with a kettle bumping and singing on its way to boiling point, Miss Climpson wasted no time. She tip-toed quickly out again and stood with ear cocked at the foot of the stairs, listening to the nurse’s footsteps as they pattered into the distance. Then she slipped into the little sitting-room, took up the will in its sealed envelope, and a long thin paper-knife which she had already marked down as a useful weapon, and hastened back to the kitchen.
It is astonishing how long a kettle which seems to be on the verge of boiling will take before the looked-for jet of steady steam emerges from its spout. Delusive little puffs and deceptive pauses in the song tantalise the watcher interminably. It seemed to Miss Climpson that there would have been time to make twenty beds before the kettle boiled that evening. But even a watched pot cannot absorb heat for ever. After what appeared to be an hour, but was actually about seven minutes, Miss Climpson, guilty and furtive, was holding the flap of the envelope before the scalding steam.
“I mustn’t hurry,” said Miss Climpson, “oh, blessed saints, I mustn’t hurry, or I shall tear it.”
She slipped the paper-knife under the flap; it lifted; it opened cleanly, just as Miss Booth’s step resounded in the passage.
Miss Climpson adroitly dropped the paper-knife behind the stove and thrust the envelope, with the flap doubled back to prevent it from re-sticking itself, behind a dishcover on the wall.
“The water’s ready!” she cried blithely. “Where are the bottles?”
It is a tribute to her nerve that she filled them with a steady hand. Miss Booth thanked her, and departed upstairs, a bottle in each hand.
Miss Climpson pulled the will from its hiding-place, drew it from its envelope and glanced swiftly through it.
It was not a long document, and in spite of the legal phraseology, its purport was easily gathered. Within three minutes she had replaced it, moistened the gum and stuck the flap down again. She put it in her petticoat-pocket – for her garments were of a useful and old-fashioned kind – and went to hunt in the pantry. When Miss Booth returned, she was making tea peacefully.
“I thought it would refresh us after our labours,” she remarked.
“A very good idea,” said Miss Booth; “in fact, I was just going to suggest it.”
Miss Climpson carried the tea-pot to the sitting-room, leaving Miss Booth to follow with the cups, milk and sugar on a tray. With the tea-pot on the hob and the will once more lying innocently on the table, she smiled and breathed deeply. Her mission was accomplished.
Letter from Miss Climpson to Lord Peter Wimsey.
Tuesday, Jan. 7, 1930.
my dear lord peter,
“As my telegram this morning will have informed you, I have succeeded!! Though what excuse I can find in my conscience for the methods I have used, I don’t know! but I believe the Church takes into account the necessity of deception in certain professions, such as that of a police-detective or a spy in time of warfare, and I trust that my subterfuges may be allowed to come under that category. However, you will not want to hear about my religious scruples! So I will hasten to let you know what I have discovered!!
“In my last letter I explained the plan I had in mind, so you will know what to do about the Will itself, which was duly despatched by Registered Post this morning under cover to Mr. Norman Urquhart. How surprised he will be to get it!!! Miss Booth wrote an excellent covering letter which I saw before it went, which explains the circumstances and mentions no names!! I have wired to Miss Murchison to expect the package, and I hope that when it comes she will contrive to be present at the opening, so as to constitute yet another witness to its existence. In any case, I should not think he would venture to tamper with it. Perhaps Miss Murchison may be able to investigate it in detail, which I had not time to do (it was all most adventurous! and I am looking forward to telling you all about it when I come back), but in case she is not able to do so, I will give you the rough outline.
“The property consists of real estate (the house and grounds) and a personalty (am I not good at legal terms??) which I am not able to calculate exactly. But the gist of it all is this: -
“The real estate is left to Philip Boyes, absolutely.
“Fifty thousand pounds is left to Philip Boyes also, in cash.
“The remainder (is not this called the residue?) is left to norman urquhart, who is appointed sole executor.
“There are a few small legacies to Stage Charities, of which I did not manage to memorise any particulars.
“There is a special paragraph, explaining that the greater part of the property is left to Philip Boyes in token that the testatrix forgives the ill treatment meted out to her by his family, for which he was not responsible.
“The date of the Will is 5 June 1920, and the witnesses are Eva Gubbins, housekeeper, and John Briggs, gardener.
“I hope, dear Lord Peter, that this information will be enough for your purpose. I had hoped that even after Miss Booth had enclosed the Will in a covering envelope I might be able to take it out and peruse it at leisure, but unfortunately she sealed it for greater security with Mrs. Wrayburn’s private seal, which I had not sufficient dexterity to remove and replace, though I understand it is possible to do so with a hot knife.
“You will understand that I cannot leave Windle just yet – it would look so odd to do so immediately after this occurrence. Besides, I am hoping, in a further series of ‘sittings,’ to warn Miss Booth against Mrs. Craig and her ‘control’ Fedora, as I am quite sure that this person is quite as great a charlatan as I AM!!! – and without my altruistic motives!! So you will not be surprised if I am away from Town for, say, another week! I am a little worried about the extra expense of this, but if you do not think it justified for the sake of safety, let me know – and I will alter my arrangements accordingly.
“Wishing you all success, dear Lord Peter,
Most sincerely yours,
“Katharine A. Climpson.
“P.S. I managed to do the ‘job’ very nearly within the stipulated week, you see. I am so sorry it was not quite finished yesterday, but I was so terrified of spoiling the whole thing by rushing it!!
“Bunter,” said Lord Peter, looking up from this letter, “I knew there was something fishy about that will.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“There is something about wills which brings out the worst side of human nature. People who under ordinary circumstances are perfectly upright and amiable, go as curly as corkscrews and foam at the mouth, whenever they hear the words ‘I devise and bequeath.’ That reminds me, a spot of champagne in a silver tankard is no bad thing to celebrate on. Get up a bottle of the Pommery and tell Chief-Inspector Parker I should be glad of a word with him. And bring me those notes of Mr. Arbuthnot’s. And oh, Bunter!”
“My lord?”
“Get Mr. Crofts on the ’phone and give him my compliments, and say I have found the criminal and the motive and hope presently to produce proof of the way the crime was done, if he will see that the case is put off for a week or so.”
“Very good, my lord.”
“All the same, Bunter, I really don’t know how it was done.”
“That will undoubtedly suggest itself before long, my lord.”
“Oh, yes,” said Wimsey, airily. “Of course. Of course. I’m not worrying about a trifle like that.”
CHAPTER XX
“T’ch!t’ch!” said Mr. Pond, clicking his tongue against his denture.
Miss Murchison looked up from her typewriter.
“Is anything the matter, Mr. Pond?”
“No, nothing,” said the head-clerk, testily. “A foolish letter from a foolish member of your sex, Miss Murchison.”
“That’s nothing new.”
Mr. Pond frowned, conceiving the tone of his subordinate’s voice to be impertinent. He picked up the letter and its enclosure and took them into the inner office.