Read Online The Case of the Late Pig by Margery Allingham - Free Book Online Page B

said with a return of her old manner. ‘I said you were hard. I like hard people, I do reelly.’
    Her lightning changes of mood disconcerted me, and I was glad when we pulled up outside the pub. The fine old lath and plaster front was in darkness, which was not astonishing, for it was nearly midnight.
    ‘Which door is it?’ I inquired.
    ‘The one marked Club Room. I expect it’ll be locked.’
    I left her in the car while I tapped on the door she indicated. For a time there was no response, and I was getting restive at the delay when I heard a furtive movement on the inside. I tapped again, and this time the door was opened.
    ‘I say, you’re fearfully late,’ said the last voice I expected, and Gilbert Whippet of all people thrust a pale face out into the moonlight.
    I gaped at him, and he had the grace to seem vaguely disturbed to see me.
    ‘Oh … er … Campion,’ he said. ‘Hello! Terribly late, isn’t it?’
    He was backing into the dark pit of the doorway when I pulled myself together.
    ‘Hey,’ I said, catching him by the sleeve. ‘Here, Whippet, where are you going?’
    He did not resist me, but made no attempt to come out into the light. Moreover, I felt that once I let him go he would fade quietly into the background.
    ‘I was going to bed,’ he murmured, no doubt in reply to my question. ‘I heard you knock, so I opened the door.’
    ‘You stay and talk to me,’ I commanded. ‘What are you doing here, anyway?’
    In spite of myself I heard the old censorious note creeping into my tone. Whippet is so very vague that he forces one into an unusual directness.
    He did not answer me, and I repeated the question.
    ‘Here?’ he said, looking up at the pub ‘Oh yes, I’m staying here. Only for a day or two.’
    He was infuriating, and I quite forgot the girl until I heard her step behind me.
    ‘Mr Whippet,’ she began breathlessly, ‘he’s gone! The body’s gone! What shall we do?’
    Whippet turned his pale eyes towards her, and I thought I detected a warning in the glance.
    ‘Ah, Miss Rowlandson,’ he said. ‘You’ve been out? You’re late, aren’t you?’
    I was glad to see she wasn’t playing, either.
    ‘The body’s gone,’ she repeated. ‘Roly Peters’s body is gone.’
    The information seemed to sink in. For a moment he looked positively intelligent.
    ‘Lost it?’ he said. ‘Oh! … Awkward. Holds things up so.’
    His voice trailed away into silence, and he suddenly shook hands with me.
    ‘Glad to have seen you, Campion. I’ll look you up some time. Er – good night.’
    He stepped back into the doorway, and Effie followed him. With great presence of mind I put my foot in the jamb.
    ‘Look here, Whippet,’ I said, ‘if you can do anything to help us in this matter, or if you know anything, you’d better come out with it. What do you know about Peters, anyway?’
    He blinked at me.
    ‘Oh … nothing. I’m just staying here. I’ve heard the talk, of course.…’
    I caught his sleeve again just as he was disappearing.
    ‘You had one of those letters,’ I said. ‘Have you had any more?’
    ‘About the mole? Yes. Yes, as a matter of fact, I have, Campion. I’ve got it somewhere. I showed it to Miss Rowlandson. I say, it’s terribly awkward you losing the body. Have you looked in the river?’
    It was such an unexpected question that it irritated me unreasonably.
    ‘Why on earth in the river?’ I said. ‘D’you know anything?’
    In my excitement I must have held him a little more tightly than I had intended, for he suddenly shook himself free.
    ‘I should look in the river,’ he said. ‘I mean, it’s so obvious, isn’t it?’
    He stepped back and closed the door with himself and Miss Rowlandson inside. I still had my foot there, however, and he opened it again. He seemed embarrassed.
    ‘It’s fearfully late,’ he said. ‘I don’t mean to be rude, Campion. I’ll look you up tomorrow, if I may, but there’s no point in your doing anything at all