“Leahampton.
“12 May, 1927.
MY DEAR LORD PETER,
“I have not yet been able to get ALL the information you ask for, as Miss Whittaker has been away for some weeks, inspecting chicken farms!! With a view to purchase, I mean, of course, and not in any sanitary capacity (!). I really think she means to set up farming with Miss Findlater, though what Miss Whittaker can see in that very gushing and really silly young woman I cannot think. However, Miss Findlater has evidently quite a ‘pash’ (as we used to call it at school) for Miss Whittaker, and I am afraid none of us are above being flattered by such outspoken admiration. I must say, I think it rather unhealthy- you may remember Miss Clemence Dane’s very clever book on the subject?- I have seen so much of that kind of thing in my rather WOMAN-RIDDEN existence! It has such a bad effect, as a rule, upon the weaker character of the two- But I must not take up your time with my TWADDLE!!
“Miss Murgatroyd, who was quite a friend of old Miss Dawson, however, has been able to tell me a little about her past life.
“It seems that, until five years ago, Miss Dawson lived in Warwickshire with her cousin, a Miss Clara Whittaker, Mary Whittaker’s great-aunt on the father’s side. This Miss Clara was evidently rather a ‘character,’ as my dear father used to call it. In her day she was considered very ‘advanced’ and not quite nice(!) because she refused several good offers, cut her hair SHORT(!!!) and set up in business for herself as a HORSE-BREEDER!!! Of course, nowadays, nobody would think anything of it, but then the old lady-or young lady as she was when she embarked on this revolutionary proceeding, was quite a PIONEER.
“Agatha Dawson was a school-fellow of hers, and deeply attached to her. And as a result of this friendship, Agatha’s sister, HARRIET, married Clara Whittaker’s brother JAMES! But Agatha did not care about marriage, any more than Clara, and the two ladies lived together in a big old house, with immense stables, in a village in Warwickshire- Crofton, I think the name was. Clara Whittaker turned out to be a remarkably good business woman, and worked up a big ‘connection’ among the hunting folk in those parts. Her hunters became quite famous, and from a capital of a few thousand pounds with which she started she made quite a fortune, and was a very rich woman before her death! Agatha Dawson never had anything to do with the horsey part of the business. She was the ‘domestic’ partner, and looked after the house and the servants.
“When Clara Whittaker died, she left all her money to AGATHA, passing over her own family, with whom she was not on very good terms- owing to the narrow minded attitude they had taken up about her horse-dealing!! Her nephew, Charles Whittaker, who was a clergyman, and the father of our Miss Whittaker, resented very much not getting the money, though, as he had kept up the feud in a very un-Christian manner, he had really no right to complain, especially as Clara had built up her fortune entirely by her own exertions. But, of course, he inherited the bad, old-fashioned idea that women ought not to be their own mistresses, or make money for themselves, or do what they liked with their own!
“He and his family were the only surviving Whittaker relations, and when he and his wife were killed in a motor-car accident, Miss Dawson asked Mary to leave her work as a nurse and make her home with her. So that, you see, Clara Whittaker’s money was destined to come back to James Whittaker’s daughter in the end!! Miss Dawson made it quite CLEAR that this was her intention, provided Mary would come and cheer the declining days of a lonely old lady!
“Mary accepted, and as her aunt- or, to speak more exactly, her great-aunt- had given up the big old Warwickshire house after Clara’s death, they lived in London for a short time and then moved to Leahampton. As you know, poor old Miss Dawson was then already suffering from the terrible disease of which she died, so that Mary did not have to wait very long for Clara Whittaker’s money!!
“I hope this information will be of some use to you. Miss Murgatroy did not, of course, know anything about the rest of the family, but always understood that there were no other surviving relatives, either on the Whittaker or the Dawson side.
“When Miss Whittaker returns, I hope to see more of her. I enclose my account for expenses up to date. I do trust you will not consider it extravagant. How are your money-lenders progressing? I was sorry not to see more of those poor women whose cases I investigated- their stories were so PATHETIC!
“I am,
“Very sincerely yours,
“ALEXANDRA K. CLIMPSON.”
“P.S.- I forgot to say that Miss Whittaker has a little motor-car. I do not, of course, know anything about these matters, but Mrs. Budge’s maid tells me that Miss Whittaker’s maid says it is an Austen 7 (is this right?). It is grey, and the number is XX9917.”
Mr. Parker was announced, just as Lord Peter finished reading this document, and sank rather wearily in a corner of the chesterfield.
“What luck?” inquired his lordship, tossing the letter over to him. “Do you know, I’m beginning to think you were right about the Bertha Gotobed business, and I’m rather relieved. I don’t believe one word of Mrs. Forrest’s story, for reasons of my own, and I’m now hoping that the wiping out of Bertha was a pure coincidence and nothing to do with my advertisement.”
“Are you?” said Parker, bitterly, helping himself to whisky and soda. “Well, I hope you’ll be cheered to learn that the analysis of the body has been made, and that there is not the slightest sign of foul play. There is no trace of violence or of poisoning. There was a heart weakness of fairly long standing and the verdict is syncope after a heavy meal.”
“That doesn’t worry me,” said Wimsey. “We suggested shock, you know. Amiable gentleman met at flat of friendly lady suddenly turns funny after dinner and makes undesirable overtures. Virtuous young woman is horribly shocked. Weak heart gives way. Collapse. Exit. Agitation of amiable gentleman and friendly lady, left with corpse on their hands. Happy thought: motor-car; Epping Forest; exeunt omnes, singing and washing their hands. Where’s the difficulty?”
“Proving it is the difficulty, that’s all. By the way, there were no finger-marks on the bottle- only smears.”
“Gloves, I suppose. Which looks like camouflage, anyhow. An ordinary picnicking couple wouldn’t put on gloves to handle a bottle of Bass.”
“I know. But we can’t arrest all the people who wear gloves.”
“I weep for you, the Walrus said, I deeply sympathise. I see the difficulty, but it’s early days yet. How about those injections?”
“Perfectly O.K. We’ve interrogated the chemist and interviewed the doctor. Mrs. Forrest suffers from violent neuralgic pains, and the injections were duly prescribed. Nothing wrong there, and no history of doping or anything. The prescription is a very mild one, and couldn’t possibly be fatal to anybody. Besides, haven’t I told you that there was no trace of morphia or any other kind of poison in the body?”
“Oh, well!” said Wimsey. He sat for a few minutes looking thoughtfully at the fire.
“I see the case has more or less died out of the papers,” he resumed, suddenly.
“Yes. The analysis has been sent to them, and there will be a paragraph tomorrow and a verdict of natural death, and that will be the end of it.”
“Good. The less fuss there is about it the better. Has anything been heard of the sister in Canada?”
“Oh, I forgot. Yes. We had a cable three days ago. She’s coming over.”
“Is she? By Jove! What boat?”
“The Star of Quebec- due in next Friday.”
“H’m! We’ll have to get hold of her. Are you meeting the boat?”
“Good heavens, no! Why should I?”
“I think someone ought to. I’m reassured- but not altogether happy; I think I’ll go myself, if you don’t mind. I want to get that Dawson story- and this time I want to make sure the young woman doesn’t have a heart attack before I interview her.”