Lord Peter Views the Body (40 page)

    ‘No – no!’ Flesh and blood could endure the mockery no longer. ‘No! Finish with him. Get it over. Break up the meeting. It’s dangerous. The police—’

    ‘Silence!’

    The President glanced round at the crowd. It had a dangerous look about it. He gave way.

    ‘Very well. Take the prisoner away and silence him. He will receive Number 4 treatment. And be sure you explain it to him carefully first.’

    ‘Ah!’

    The eyes expressed a wolfish satisfaction. Strong hands gripped Wimsey’s arms.

    ‘One moment – for God’s sake let me die decently.’

    ‘You should have thought this over earlier. Take him away. Ladies and gentlemen, be satisfied – he will not die quickly.’

    ‘Stop! Wait!’ cried Wimsey desperately. ‘I have something to say. I don’t ask for life – only for a quick death. I – I have something to sell.’

    ‘To sell?’

    ‘Yes.’

    ‘We make no bargains with traitors.’

    ‘No – but listen! Do you think I have not thought of this? I am not so mad. I have left a letter.’

    ‘Ah! now it is coming. A letter. To whom?’

    ‘To the police. If I do not return tomorrow—’

    ‘Well?’

    ‘The letter will be opened.’

    ‘Sir,’ broke in Number Fifteen. ‘This is bluff. The prisoner has not sent any letter. He has been strictly watched for many months.’

    ‘Ah! but listen. I left the letter before I came to Lambeth.’

    ‘Then it can contain no information of value.’

    ‘Oh, but it does.’

    ‘What?’

    ‘The combination of my safe.’

    ‘Indeed? Has this man’s safe been searched?’

    ‘Yes, sir.’

    ‘What did it contain?’

    ‘No information of importance, sir. An outline of our organisation – the name of this house – nothing that cannot be altered and covered before morning.’

    Wimsey smiled.

    ‘Did you investigate the inner compartment of the safe?’

    There was a pause.

    ‘You hear what he says,’ snapped the President sharply. ‘Did you find this inner compartment?’

    ‘There was no inner compartment, sir. He is trying to bluff.’

    ‘I hate to contradict you,’ said Wimsey, with an effort at his ordinary pleasant tone, ‘but I really think you must have over-looked the inner compartment.’

    ‘Well,’ said the President, ‘and what do you say is in this inner compartment, if it does exist?’

    ‘The names of every member of this Society, with their addresses, photographs, and finger-prints.’

    ‘What?’

    The eyes round him now were ugly with fear. Wimsey kept his face steadily turned towards the President.

    ‘How do you say you have contrived to get this information?’

    ‘Well, I have been doing a little detective work on my own, you know.’

    ‘But you have been watched.’

    ‘True. The finger-prints of my watchers adorn the first page of the collection.’

    ‘This statement can be proved?’

    ‘Certainly. I will prove it. The name of Number Fifty, for example—’

    ‘Stop!’

    A fierce muttering arose. The President silenced it with a gesture.

    ‘If you mention names here, you will certainly have no hope of mercy. There is a fifth treatment – kept specially for people who mention names. Bring the prisoner to my office. Keep the dance going.’

    ‘The President took an automatic from his hip-pocket and faced the tightly fettered prisoner across the desk.

    ‘Now speak!’ he said.

    ‘I should put that thing away, if I were you,’ said Wimsey contemptuously. ‘It would be a much pleasanter form of death than treatment Number 5, and I might be tempted to ask for it.’

    ‘Ingenious,’ said the President, ‘but a little too ingenious. Now, be quick; tell me what you know.’

    ‘Will you spare me if I tell you?’

    ‘I make no promises. Be quick.’

    Wimsey shrugged his bound and aching shoulders.

    ‘Certainly. I will tell you what I know. Stop me when you have heard enough.’

    He leaned forward and spoke low. Overhead the noise of the gramophone and the shuffling of feet bore witness that the dance was going on. Stray passers-by crossing the Heath noted that the people in the lonely house were making a night of it again.

‘Well,’ said Wimsey, ‘am I to go on?’

    From beneath the mask the President’s voice sounded as though he were grimly smiling.

    ‘My lord,’ he said, ‘your story fills me with regret that you are not, in fact, a member of our Society. Wit, courage, and industry are valuable to an association like ours. I fear I cannot persuade you? No – I supposed not.’

    He touched a bell on his desk.

    ‘Ask the members kindly to proceed to the supper-room,’ he said to the mask who entered.

    The ‘supper-room’ was on the ground-floor, shuttered and curtained. Down its centre ran a long, bare table, with chairs set about it.

    ‘A Barmecide feast, I see,’ said Wimsey pleasantly. It was the first time he had seen this room. At the far end, a trap-door in the floor gaped ominously.

    The President took the head of the table.

    ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he began, as usual – and the foolish courtesy had never sounded so sinister – ‘I will not conceal from you the seriousness of the situation. The prisoner has recited to me more than twenty names and addresses which were thought to be unknown, except to their owners and to me. There has been great carelessness’ – his voice rang harshly – ‘which will have to be looked into. Finger-prints have been obtained – he has shown me the photographs of some of them. How our investigators came to overlook the inner door of this safe is a matter which calls for enquiry.’

    ‘Don’t blame them,’ put in Wimsey. ‘It was meant to be overlooked, you know. I made it like that on purpose.’

    The President went on, without seeming to notice the interruption.

    ‘The prisoner informs me that the book with the names and addresses is to be found in this inner compartment, together with certain letters and papers stolen from the houses of members, and numerous objects bearing authentic finger-prints. I believe him to be telling the truth. He offers the combination of the safe in exchange for a quick death. I think the offer should be accepted. What is your opinion, ladies and gentlemen?’

    ‘The combination is known already,’ said Number Twenty-two.

    ‘Imbecile! This man has told us, and has proved to me, that he is Lord Peter Wimsey. Do you think he will have forgotten to alter the combination? And then there is the secret of the inner door. If he disappears tonight and the police enter his house—’

    ‘I say,’ said a woman’s rich voice, ‘that the promise should be given and the information used – and quickly. Time is getting short.’

    A murmur of agreement went round the table.

    ‘You hear,’ said the President, addressing Wimsey. ‘The Society offers you the privilege of a quick death in return for the combination of the safe and the secret of the inner door.’

    ‘I have your word for it?’

    ‘You have.’

    ‘Thank you. And my mother and sister?’

    ‘If you in your turn will give us your word – you are a man of honour – that these women know nothing that could harm us, they shall be spared.’

    ‘Thank you, sir. You may rest assured, upon my honour, that they know nothing. I should not think of burdening any woman with such dangerous secrets – particularly those who are dear to me.’

    ‘Very well. It is agreed – yes?’

    The murmur of assent was given, though with less readiness than before.

    ‘Then I am willing to give you the information you want. The word of the combination is UNRELIABILITY.’

    ‘And the inner door?’

    ‘In anticipation of the visit of the police, the inner door – which might have presented difficulties – is open.’

    ‘Good! You understand that if the police interfere with our messenger—’

    ‘That would not help me, would it?’

    ‘It is a risk,’ said the President thoughtfully, ‘but a risk which I think we must take. Carry the prisoner down to the cellar. He can amuse himself by contemplating apparatus Number 5. In the meantime, Numbers Twelve and Forty-six—’

    ‘No, no!’

    A sullen mutter of dissent arose and swelled threateningly.

    ‘No,’ said a tall man with a voice like treacle. ‘No – why should any members be put in possession of this evidence? We have found one traitor among us tonight and more than one fool. How are we to know that Numbers Twelve and Forty-six are not fools and traitors also?’

    The two men turned savagely upon the speaker, but a girl’s voice struck into the discussion, high and agitated.

    ‘Hear, hear! That’s right, I say. How about us? We ain’t going to have our names read by somebody we don’t know nothing about. I’ve had enough of this. They might sell the ’ole lot of us to the narks.’

    ‘I agree,’ said another member. ‘Nobody ought to be trusted, nobody at all.’

    The President shrugged his shoulders.

    ‘Then what, ladies and gentlemen, do you suggest?’

    There was a pause. Then the same girl shrilled out again:

    ‘I say Mr President oughter go himself. He’s the only one as knows all the names. It won’t be no cop to him. Why should we take all the risk and trouble and him sit at home and collar the money? Let him go himself, that’s what I say.’

    A long rustle of approbation went round the table.

    ‘I second that motion,’ said a stout man who wore a bunch of gold seals at his fob. Wimsey smiled as he looked at the seals; it was that trifling vanity which had led him directly to the name and address of the stout man, and he felt a certain affection for the trinkets on that account.

    The President looked round.

    ‘It is the wish of the meeting, then, that I should go?’ he said, in an ominous voice.

    Forty-five hands were raised in approbation. Only the woman known as Number Two remained motionless and silent, her strong white hands clenched on the arm of the chair.

    The President rolled his eyes slowly round the threatening ring till they rested upon her.

    ‘Am I to take it that this vote is unanimous?’ he enquired.

    The woman raised her head.

    ‘Don’t go,’ she gasped faintly.

    ‘You hear,’ said the President, in a faintly derisive tone. ‘This lady says, don’t go.’

    ‘I submit that what Number Two says is neither here nor there,’ said the man with the treacly voice. ‘Our own ladies might not like us to be going, if they were in madam’s privileged position.’ His voice was an insult.

    ‘Hear, hear!’ cried another man. ‘This is a democratic society, this is. We don’t want no privileged classes.’

    ‘Very well,’ said the President. ‘You hear, Number Two. The feeling of the meeting is against you. Have you any reasons to put forward in favour of your opinion?’

    ‘A hundred. The President is the head and soul of our Society. If anything should happen to him – where should we be? You’ – she swept the company magnificently with her eyes – ‘you have all blundered. We have your carelessness to thank for all this. Do you think we should be safe for five minutes if the President were not here to repair your follies?’

    ‘Something in that,’ said a man who had not hitherto spoken.

    ‘Pardon my suggesting,’ said Wimsey maliciously, ‘that, as the lady appears to be in a position peculiarly favourable for the reception of the President’s confidences, the contents of my modest volume will probably be no news to her. Why should not Number Two go herself?’

    ‘Because I say she must not,’ said the President sternly, checking the quick reply that rose to his companion’s lips. ‘If it is the will of the meeting, I will go. Give me the key of the house.’

    One of the men extracted it from Wimsey’s jacket-pocket and handed it over.

    ‘Is the house watched?’ he demanded of Wimsey.

    ‘No.’

    ‘That is the truth?’

    ‘It is the truth.’

    The President turned at the door.

    ‘If I have not returned in two hours’ time,’ he said, ‘act for the best to save yourselves, and do what you like with the prisoner. Number Two will give orders in my absence.’

    He left the room. Number Two rose from her seat with a gesture of command.

    ‘Ladies and gentlemen. Supper is now considered over. Start the dancing again.’

Down in the cellar the time passed slowly, in the contemplation of apparatus Number 5. The miserable Jukes, alternately wailing and raving, at length shrieked himself into exhaustion. The four members guarding the prisoners whispered together from time to time.