Read Online Have His Carcase by Dorothy L. Sayers - Free Book Online

Therefore when you arrived, the tide was
    practicaly out. When you woke, it had turned and had been coming in for
    about forty-five minutes. The foot of your rock – which, by the way, is localy
    named The Devil’s Flat-Iron – is only uncovered for about half an hour
    between tide and tide, and that only at the top of springs, if you understand that
    expression.’
    ‘I understand perfectly, but I don’t see what that has to do with it.’
    ‘Wel, this – that if anybody had come walking along the edge of the water to
    the rock, he could have got there without leaving any footprints.’
    ‘But he did leave footprints. Oh, I see. You’re thinking of a possible
    murderer.’
    ‘I should prefer it to be murder, naturaly. Shouldn’t you?’
    ‘Yes, of course. Wel, that’s a fact. A murderer might have walked along
    from either direction, if he did it that way. If he came from Lesston Hoe he must
    have arrived after me, because I could see the shore as I walked along, and
    there was no one walking there then. But he could have come at any time from
    the Wilvercombe side.’
    ‘No, he couldn’t,’ said Wimsey. ‘He wasn’t there, you said, at one o’clock.’
    ‘He might have been standing on the seaward side of the Flat-Iron.’
    ‘So he might. Now, how about the corpse? We can tel pretty close when he
    came.’
    ‘How?’
    ‘You said there were no wet stains on his shoes. Therefore he went dry-
    shod to the rock. We only have to find out exactly when the sand on the
    landward side of the rock is uncovered.’
    ‘Of course. How stupid of me. Wel, we can easily find that out. Where had
    I got to?’
    ‘You had been awakened by the cry of a sea-gul.’

    ‘Yes. Wel, then, I walked round the point of the cliff and out to the rock,
    and there he was.’
    ‘And at that moment there was nobody within sight?’
    ‘Not a single soul, except a man in a boat.’
    ‘Yes – the boat. Now, supposing the boat had come in when the tide was
    out, and the occupant had walked or waded up to the rock—’
    ‘That’s possible, of course. The boat was some way out.’
    ‘It al seems to depend on when the corpse got there. We must find that out.’
    ‘You’re determined it should be murder.’
    ‘Wel, suicide seems so dul. And why go al that way to commit suicide?’
    ‘Why not? Much tidier than doing it in your bedroom or anywhere like that.
    Aren’t we beginning at the wrong end? If we knew who the man was, we might
    find he had left an explanatory note behind him to say why he was going to do
    it. I daresay the police know al about it by now.’
    ‘Possibly,’ said Wimsey in a dissatisfied tone.
    ‘What’s worrying you?’
    ‘Two things. The gloves. Why should anybody cut his throat in gloves?’
    ‘I know. That bothered me too. Perhaps he had some sort of skin disease
    and was accustomed to wearing gloves for everything. I ought to have looked. I
    did start to take the gloves off, but they were – messy.’
    ‘Um! I see you stil retain a few female frailties. The second point that
    troubles me is the weapon. Why should a gentleman with a beard sport a cut-
    throat razor?’
    ‘Bought for the purpose.’
    ‘Yes; after al, why not? My dear Harriet, I think you are right. The man cut
    his throat, and that’s al there is to it. I am disappointed.’
    ‘It is disappointing, but it can’t be helped. Halo! here’s my friend the
    Inspector.’
    It was indeed Inspector Umpelty who was threading his way between the
    tables. He was in mufti – a large, comfortable-looking tweed-clad figure. He
    greeted Harriet pleasantly.
    ‘I thought you might like to see how your snaps have turned out, Miss Vane.
    And we’ve identified the man.’

    ‘No? Have you? Good work. This is Inspector Umpelty – Lord Peter
    Wimsey.’
    The Inspector appeared gratified by the introduction.
    ‘You’re early on the job, my lord. But I don’t know that you’l find anything
    very mysterious about this case. Just a plain