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

suicide, I fancy.’
    ‘We had regretfuly come to that conclusion,’ admitted Wimsey.
    ‘Though why he should have done it, I don’t know. But you never can tel
    with these foreigners, can you?’
    ‘I thought he looked rather foreign,’ said Harriet.
    ‘Yes. He’s a Russian, or something of that sort. Paul Alexis Goldschmidt, his
    name is; known as Paul Alexis. Comes from this very hotel, as a matter of fact.
    One of the professional dancing-partners in the lounge here – you know the
    sort. They don’t seem to know much about him. Turned up here just over a
    year ago and asked for a job. Seemed to be a good dancer and al that and
    they had a vacancy, so they took him on. Age twenty-two or thereabouts.
    Unmarried. Lived in rooms. Nothing known against him.’
    ‘Papers in order?’
    ‘Naturalised British subject. Said to have escaped from Russia at the
    Revolution. He must have been a kid of about nine, but we haven’t found out
    yet who had charge of him. He was alone when he turned up here, and his
    landlady doesn’t ever seem to have heard of anybody belonging to him. But
    we’l soon find out when we go through his stuff.’
    ‘He didn’t leave any letter for the coroner, or anything?’
    ‘We’ve found nothing so far. And as regards the coroner, that’s a bit of a
    bother, that is. I don’t know how long it’l be, miss, before you’re wanted. You
    see, we can’t find the body.’
    ‘You don’t mean to tel me,’ said Wimsey, ‘that the evil-eyed doctor and the
    mysterious Chinaman have already conveyed it to the lone house on the moor?’
    ‘You wil have your fun, my lord, I see. No – it’s a bit simpler than that. You
    see, the current sets northwards round the bay there, and with this sou’wester
    blowing, the body wil have been washed off the Flat-Iron. It’l either come
    ashore somewhere off Sandy Point, or it’l have got carried out and caught up
    in the Grinders. If that’s where it is, we’l have to wait til the wind goes down.

    You can’t take a boat in there with this sea running, and you can’t dive off the
    rocks – even supposing you knew whereabouts to dive. It’s a nuisance, but it
    can’t be helped.’
    ‘H’m,’ said Wimsey. ‘Just as wel you took those photographs, Sherlock, or
    we’d have no proof that there ever had been a body.’
    ‘Coroner can’t sit on a photograph, though,’ said the Inspector, gloomily.
    ‘Howsomever, it looks like a plain suicide, so it doesn’t matter such a lot. Stil,
    it’s annoying. We like to get these things tidied up as we go along.’
    ‘Naturaly,’ said Wimsey. ‘Wel, I’m sure if anybody can tidy up, you can,
    Inspector. You impress me as being a man with an essentialy tidy mind. I wil
    engage to prophesy, Sherlock, that before lunch-time. Inspector Umpelty wil
    have sorted out the dead man’s papers, got the entire story from the hotel-
    manager, identified the place where the razor was bought and explained the
    mysterious presence of the gloves.’
    The Inspector laughed.
    ‘I don’t think there’s much to be got out of the manager, my lord, and as for
    the razor, that’s neither here nor there.’
    ‘But the gloves?’
    ‘Wel, my lord, I expect the only person that could tel us about that is the
    poor blighter himself, and he’s dead. But as regards the papers, you’re dead
    right. I’m looking along there now.’ He paused, doubtfuly, and looked from
    Harriet to Wimsey and back again.
    ‘No,’ said Wimsey. ‘Set your mind at rest. We are not going to ask to come
    with you. I know that the amateur detective has a habit of embarrassing the
    police in the execution of their duty. We are going out to view the town like a
    perfect little lady and gentleman. There’s only one thing I should like to have a
    look at, if it isn’t troubling you too much – and that’s the razor.’
    The Inspector was very wiling that Lord Peter should see the razor. ‘And if
    you like to comerlongerme,’ he added