I asked if Mrs. Budge knew Miss Whittaker personally. Miss Whittaker is the niece, you know,
“Not personally, she said, though she had met her in a social way at the vicarage working-parties. But she knew all about it, because her maid was own sister to the maid at Miss Dawson’s. Now is not that a fortunate coincidence, for you know how these girls talk!
“I also made careful inquiries the Vicar, Mr. Tredgold, and was much gratified to find that he teaches sound Catholic doctrine, so that I shall be able to attend the Church (S. Onesimus) without doing violence to my religious beliefs- a thing I could not undertake to do, even in your interests. I am sure you will understand this. As it happens, all is well, and I have written to my very good friend, the Vicar of S. Edfrith’s, Holborn, to ask for an introduction to Mr. Tredgold. By this means, I feel sure of meeting Miss Whittaker before long, as I hear she is quite a ‘pillar of the Church’! I do hope it is not wrong to make use of the Church of God to a worldly end; but after all, you are only seeking to establish Truth and Justice!- and in so good a cause, we may perhaps permit ourselves to be a little bit JESUITICAL!!!
‘This is all I have been able to do as yet, but I shall not be idle, and will write to you again as soon as I have anything to report. By the way, the pillar-box is most conveniently placed just at the corner of Wellington Avenue, so that I can easily run out and post my letters to you myself (away from prying eyes!!)- and just take a little peep at Miss Dawson’s- now Miss Whittaker’s- house, ‘The Grove,’ at the same time.
“Believe me,
“Sincerely yours,
“ALEXANDRA KATHERINE CLIMPSON.”
The little red-headed nurse gave her visitor a quick, slightly hostile look-over.
“It’s quite all right,” he said apologetically, “I haven’t come to sell you soap or gramophones, or to borrow money or enrol you in the Ancient Froth-blowers or anything charitable. I really am Lord Peter Wimsey- I mean, that really is my title, don’t you know, not a Christian name like Sanger’s Circus or Earl Derr Biggers. I’ve come to ask you some questions, and I’ve no real excuse, I’m afraid, for butting in on you- do you ever read the News of the World?”
Nurse Philliter decided that she was to be asked to go to a mental case, and that the patient had come to fetch her in person.
“Sometimes,” she said guardedly.
“Oh- well, you may have noticed my name croppin’ up in a few murders and things lately. I sleuth, you know. For a hobby. Harmless outlet for natural inquisitiveness, don’t you see, which might otherwise strike inward and produce introspection an’ suicide. Very natural, healthy pursuit- not too strenuous, not too sedentary; trains and invigorates the mind.”
“I know who you are now,” said Nurse Philliter, slowly. “You- you gave evidence against Sir Julian Freke. In fact, you traced the murder to him, didn’t you?”
“I did- it was rather unpleasant,” said Lord Peter, simply, “and I’ve got another little job of the same kind in hand now, and I want your help.”
“Won’t you sit down?” said Nurse Philliter, setting the example. “How am I concerned in the matter? ”
“You know Dr. Edward Carr, I think- late of Leahampton- conscientious but a little lackin’ in worldly wisdom- not serpentine at all, as the Bible advises, but far otherwise.
“What!” she cried, “do you believe it was murder,then?”
Lord Peter looked at her a few seconds. Her face was eager, her eyes gleaming curiously under her thick, level brows. She had expressive hands, rather large and with strong, flat joints. He noticed how they gripped the arms of her chair.
“Haven’t the faintest,” he replied, nonchalantly, “but I wanted your opinion.”
“Mine?”- she checked herself. “You know, I am not supposed to give opinions about my cases.”
“You have given it me already,” said his lordship, grinning. “Though possibly I ought to allow for a little prejudice in favour of Dr. Carr’s diagnosis.”
“Well, yes- but it’s not merely personal. I mean, my being engaged to Dr. Carr wouldn’t affect my judgment of a cancer case. I have worked with him on a great many of them, and I know that his opinion is really trustworthy- just as I know that as a motorist, he’s exactly the opposite.”
“Right. I take it that if he says the death was inexplicable, it really was so. That’s one point gained. Now about the old lady herself. I gather she was a little queer towards the end- a bit mental,; think you people call it?”
“I don’t know that I’d say that either. Of course, when she was under morphia, she would be unconscious, or only semi-conscious, for hours together. But up to the time when I left, I should say she was quite- well, quite all there. She was obstinate, you know, and what they call a character, at the best of times.”
“ But Dr. Carr told me she got odd fancies- about people poisoning her?”
The red-haired nurse rubbed her fingers slowly along the arm of the chair, and hesitated.
“If it will make you feel any less unprofessional,” said Lord Peter, guessing what was in her mind, “I may say that my friend Detective-Inspecter Parker is looking into this matter with me, which gives me a sort of right to ask questions.”
“In that case- yes- in that case I think I can speak freely. I never about that poisoning idea. I never saw anything of it- no aversion, I mean, or fear of me. As a rule, a patient will show it, if she’s got any queer ideas about the nurse. Poor Miss Dawson was always kind and affectionate. She kissed me when I went away and gave me a little present, and said she was sorry to lose me.”
“She didn’t show any sort of nervousness about taking food from you?”
“Well, I wasn’t allowed to give her any food that last week. Miss Whittaker said her aunt had taken this funny notion, and gave her all her meals herself.”
“Oh! that’s very interestin’. Was it Miss Whittaker, then, who first mentioned this little excentricity to you?”
“Yes. And she begged me not to say anything about it to Miss Dawson, for fear of agitating her.”
“And did you?”
“I did not. I wouldn’t mention it in any case to a patient. It does no good.”
“Did Miss Dawson ever speak about it to anyone else? Dr. Carr, for instance?”
“No. According to Miss Whittaker, her aunt was frightened of the doctor too, because she imagined he was in league with me. Of course, that story rather lent colour to the unkind things that were said afterwards. I suppose it’s just possible that she saw us glancing at one another or speaking aside, and got the idea that we were plotting something.”
“How about the maids?”
“There were new maids about that time. She probably wouldn’t talk about it to them, and anyhow, I wouldn’t be discussing my patient with her servants.”
“Of course not. Why did the other maids leave? How many were there? Did they all go at once?”
“Two of them went. They were sisters. One was a terrible crockery-smasher, and Miss Whittaker gave her notice, so the other left with her.”