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Authors: Dorothy L. Sayers
Tags: det_classic
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Wimsey, as they returned to the trail. "Here's something-here's real treasure-trove, Parker!"
From amid the mud and the fallen leaves he retrieved a tiny, glittering object-a flash of white and green between his fingertips.
It was a little charm such as women hang upon a bracelet-a diminutive diamond cat with eyes of bright emerald.
CHAPTER III
Mud-stains and Bloodstains
" Other things are all very well in their way, but give me Blood.
We say, 'There it is! that's Blood!' It is an actual matter of fact. We point it out. It admits of no doubt… We must have Blood, you know. "
– David Copperfield
"Hitherto," said Lord Peter, as they picked their painful way through the little wood on the trail of Gent's No. 10's, "I have always maintained that those obliging criminals who strew their tracks with little articles of personal adornment-here he is, on a squashed fungus-were an invention of detective fiction for the benefit of the author. I see that I have still something to learn about my job."
"Well, you haven't been at it very long, have you?" said Parker. "Besides, we don't know that the diamond cat is the criminal's. It may belong to a member of your own family, and have been lying here for days. It may belong to Mr. What's-his-name in the States, or to the last tenant but one, and have been lying here for years. This broken branch may be our friend-I think it is."
"I'll ask the family," said Lord Peter, "and we could find out in the village if anyone's ever inquired for a lost cat. They're pukka stones. It ain't the sort of thing one would drop without making a fuss about-I've lost him altogether."
"It's all right-I've got him. He's tripped over a root."
"Serve him glad," said Lord Peter viciously, straightening his back. "I say, I don't think the human frame is very thoughtfully constructed for this sleuthhound business. If one could go on all-fours, or had eyes in one's knees, it would be a lot more practical."
"There are many difficulties inherent in a teleological view of creation," said Parker placidly. "Ah! here we are at the park palings."
"And here's where he got over," said Lord Peter, pointing to a place where the chevaux de frise on the top was broken away. "Here's the dent where his heels came down, and here's where he fell forward on hands and knees. H'm! Give us a back, old man, would you? Thanks. An old break, I see. Mr. Montague-now-in-the-States should keep his palings in better order. No. 10 tore his coat on the spikes all the same; he left a fragment of Burberry behind him. What luck! Here's a deep, damp ditch on the other side, which I shall now proceed to fall into."
A slithering crash proclaimed that he had carried out his intention. Parker, thus callously abandoned, looked round, and, seeing that they were only a hundred yards or so from the gate, ran along and was let out, decorously, by Hardraw, the gamekeeper, who happened to be coming out of the lodge.
"By the way," said Parker to him, "did you ever find any signs of any poachers on Wednesday night after all?"
"Nay," said the man, "not so much as a dead rabbit. I reckon t'lady wor mistaken, an 'twore the [garbled] heard as killed t'Captain."
"Possibly," said Parker. "Do you know how long [garbled] have been broken off the palings over there?"
"A moonth or two, happen. They should 'a' bin put right, but the man's sick."
"The gate's locked at night, I suppose?"
"Aye."
"Anybody wishing to get in would have to waken you?"
"Aye, that he would."
"You didn't see any suspicious character loitering about outside these palings last Wednesday, I suppose?"
"Nay, sir, but my wife may ha' done. Hey, lass!"
Mrs. Hardraw, thus summoned, appeared at the door with a small boy clinging to her skirts.
"Wednesday?" said she. "Nay, I saw no loiterin' folks. I keep a look-out for tramps and such, as it be such a lonely place. Wednesday. Eh, now, John, that wad be t'day t'young mon called wi' t'motor-bike."
"Young man with a
From amid the mud and the fallen leaves he retrieved a tiny, glittering object-a flash of white and green between his fingertips.
It was a little charm such as women hang upon a bracelet-a diminutive diamond cat with eyes of bright emerald.
CHAPTER III
Mud-stains and Bloodstains
" Other things are all very well in their way, but give me Blood.
We say, 'There it is! that's Blood!' It is an actual matter of fact. We point it out. It admits of no doubt… We must have Blood, you know. "
– David Copperfield
"Hitherto," said Lord Peter, as they picked their painful way through the little wood on the trail of Gent's No. 10's, "I have always maintained that those obliging criminals who strew their tracks with little articles of personal adornment-here he is, on a squashed fungus-were an invention of detective fiction for the benefit of the author. I see that I have still something to learn about my job."
"Well, you haven't been at it very long, have you?" said Parker. "Besides, we don't know that the diamond cat is the criminal's. It may belong to a member of your own family, and have been lying here for days. It may belong to Mr. What's-his-name in the States, or to the last tenant but one, and have been lying here for years. This broken branch may be our friend-I think it is."
"I'll ask the family," said Lord Peter, "and we could find out in the village if anyone's ever inquired for a lost cat. They're pukka stones. It ain't the sort of thing one would drop without making a fuss about-I've lost him altogether."
"It's all right-I've got him. He's tripped over a root."
"Serve him glad," said Lord Peter viciously, straightening his back. "I say, I don't think the human frame is very thoughtfully constructed for this sleuthhound business. If one could go on all-fours, or had eyes in one's knees, it would be a lot more practical."
"There are many difficulties inherent in a teleological view of creation," said Parker placidly. "Ah! here we are at the park palings."
"And here's where he got over," said Lord Peter, pointing to a place where the chevaux de frise on the top was broken away. "Here's the dent where his heels came down, and here's where he fell forward on hands and knees. H'm! Give us a back, old man, would you? Thanks. An old break, I see. Mr. Montague-now-in-the-States should keep his palings in better order. No. 10 tore his coat on the spikes all the same; he left a fragment of Burberry behind him. What luck! Here's a deep, damp ditch on the other side, which I shall now proceed to fall into."
A slithering crash proclaimed that he had carried out his intention. Parker, thus callously abandoned, looked round, and, seeing that they were only a hundred yards or so from the gate, ran along and was let out, decorously, by Hardraw, the gamekeeper, who happened to be coming out of the lodge.
"By the way," said Parker to him, "did you ever find any signs of any poachers on Wednesday night after all?"
"Nay," said the man, "not so much as a dead rabbit. I reckon t'lady wor mistaken, an 'twore the [garbled] heard as killed t'Captain."
"Possibly," said Parker. "Do you know how long [garbled] have been broken off the palings over there?"
"A moonth or two, happen. They should 'a' bin put right, but the man's sick."
"The gate's locked at night, I suppose?"
"Aye."
"Anybody wishing to get in would have to waken you?"
"Aye, that he would."
"You didn't see any suspicious character loitering about outside these palings last Wednesday, I suppose?"
"Nay, sir, but my wife may ha' done. Hey, lass!"
Mrs. Hardraw, thus summoned, appeared at the door with a small boy clinging to her skirts.
"Wednesday?" said she. "Nay, I saw no loiterin' folks. I keep a look-out for tramps and such, as it be such a lonely place. Wednesday. Eh, now, John, that wad be t'day t'young mon called wi' t'motor-bike."
"Young man with a
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