Read Online Move Your Blooming Corpse by D. E. Ireland - Free Book Online Page A

me.”
    â€œI shall light this candle for you to practice the aitch sound at the back of your throat, blowing air,” Eliza said. “Ha. Ha, ha, ha. There, do you hear it?”
    â€œAye, miss, I does!”
    Higgins gripped a tuning fork until his knuckles whitened. The ambitious Ivy Wallace had married James a month after he’d come into his inheritance. While her speech was dreadful, she was clearly no fool. Before she met her husband, Ivy spent long hours working in a bottling factory. Higgins did admire the desire to improve herself; however, her atrocious accent made his eyes cross.
    He rubbed his forehead with a heavy sigh. Higgins had slept badly last night, unable to banish the sight of Harold Hewitt being trampled. Far worse was finding Diana’s lifeless body in that horse stall, along with the bloodstained pitchfork.
    A quick glance at the mantel clock told Higgins the lesson was mercifully over. With a visible sigh of relief, he shooed Wallace into the foyer. Pickering arrived at that moment and brought in a hot breeze from the street. He set his hat on the rack by the door. When the young man caught sight of the Colonel, he automatically reached up to tug his forelock.
    â€œNo, no, no,” Higgins told Wallace. “You may not be his equal yet, but remember you own a business now. Act like it. And practice addressing your peers twice daily. Enunciate properly, or I shan’t bother to waste another minute teaching you anything.”
    â€œThanks, Professor. My missus will help. She’s a right corker.”
    Higgins rolled his eyes upward. Thankfully, Eliza had also finished her lesson with Ivy Wallace. After the young couple left, Pickering followed Higgins into the laboratory, a newspaper tucked under one arm.
    Eliza trailed after them and plopped down on the sofa. “I’m so happy we’re done until Monday.”
    â€œI say, Henry, you two usually take Saturday morning off,” Pickering said.
    â€œWe made an exception. Mr. and Mrs. Wallace have much to learn.”
    When the mantel clock chimed eleven, Eliza jumped to her feet. “Blimey, I have to change my dress. Jack and his fiancée will be here any minute for brunch.”
    â€œWhat the devil is wrong with what you have on?”
    â€œIt’s a uniform in a way, much like your raggedy sweater.” At the sound of a loud knock on the front door, Eliza rushed out of the room. “Oh no, they’re here already. Do try and be sociable for a change, Professor. Promise me, please.” She took the stairs two at a time.
    Higgins rocked back and forth on his heels while he tapped the ashes from his pipe.
    â€œPick, would you say my sweater is raggedy?”
    â€œHardly, old chap.”
    â€œIt’s comfortable. New enough, too.”
    Higgins packed fresh tobacco into his pipe, wondering why women always complained about something. Even his exemplary mother did so on occasion. The rattling of a hansom cab and a motorcar’s piercing horn on Wimpole Street, plus the housekeeper’s firm voice, could be heard from the laboratory.
    â€œDo come in, Inspector Shaw,” Mrs. Pearce said. “I shall ring for Miss Doolittle right away. Mr. Higgins and Colonel Pickering are in the drawing room.”
    Higgins set his pipe on the mantel. A young woman entered the room ahead of Eliza’s cousin. Jack quickly set about making introductions to his fiancée. Higgins noted that Sybil Chase wasn’t beautiful, but her gray blue eyes, arched brows, and classic English roses-and-cream complexion gave her a striking appeal. And Higgins rather approved of her bow-shaped mouth, which now curved in a charming smile. Jack pumped the Colonel’s hand as his gaze swept over the laboratory’s stack of wax cylinders, gramophone, and bookshelves. Jack had been here so often, the room and its inhabitants were a familiar sight. Mrs. Pearce waited patiently until he remembered to hand over