Five Red Herrings by Dorothy L. Sayers Page A

might be a wee while before they got to the bottom of it’ — and after that the conversation was firmly led away to the quoiting match at Gatehouse, the recent regatta at Kirkcudbright, the shortage of salmon and depredations of poachers in the estuary, and the problems of sewage-distribution in tidal waters.
    At half-past nine, when Wimsey had absorbed his grilled steak and rhubarb tart, and was dreaming over some old numbers of The Gallovidian, he was aroused by a clatter of feet upon the cobblestones of the close. He was just rising to look out of the window, when there was a knock upon the door, and a cheerful female voice called: ‘May we come in?’
    Miss Selby and Miss Cochran occupied adjacent cottages and were continually to be found taking tea in each other’s living-rooms or bathing together on the sands at the Doon. Miss Selby was tall, dark, rather angular, rather handsome in an uncompromising kind of way and painted rather good, strong, angular and handsome figure-studies in oils. Miss Cochran was round, cheerful, humorous and grey-haired; she illustrated magazine stories in line and wash. Wimsey liked them both, because they had no nonsense about them, and they liked him for the same reason, and also because they found Bunter extremely amusing. Bunter was always distressed to see them cooking their own dinners and putting up their own curtains. He would step reproachfully to their assistance, and take the hammer and nails from their hands, with a respectful, ‘Allow me, miss’; and would obligingly offer to look after stews and casseroles during their absence. They rewarded him with gifts of vegetables and flowers from their garden — gifts which Bunter would receive with a respectful, ‘Thank you, miss. His lordship will be greatly obliged.’ While Wimsey was greeting his visitors, Bunter now advanced unobtrusively and inquired, as soon as there was a pause in the conversation, whether the ladies would take supper after their journey.
    The ladies replied that they were quite well-fed, but a little investigation showed that they had indeed had nothing since tea-time except a few sandwiches on the train. Wimsey promptly ordered omelettes, a bottle of claret and the remains of the rhubarb-tart to be brought forward, and, when Bunter had withdrawn to prepare the feast, said:
    ‘Well, you’ve missed all the excitement.’
    ‘So they told us at the station,’ said Miss Cochran. ‘What is it all about? Is it true that Mr. Campbell is dead?’
    ‘Quite true. He was found in the river—’
    ‘And now they’re saying he’s been murdered,’ put in Miss Selby.
    ‘Oh, they’re saying that, are they? Well, that’s true, too.’
    ‘Good gracious!’ said Miss Selby.
    ‘And who is it they’re saying has done it?’ demanded Miss Cochran.
    ‘They don’t know yet,’ said Wimsey, ‘but there’s a kind of an idea that it was a premeditated job.’
    ‘Oh, why?’ asked Miss Cochran, bluntly.
    ‘Oh, well, because the symptoms point that way, you know, and there doesn’t seem to have been any robbery from the person, or anything — and — in fact, several things.’
    ‘And in fact you know more than you think you ought to tell us. Well, it’s fortunate we’ve got an alibi, isn’t it, Margaret? We’ve been in Glasgow ever since yesterday morning. It was on Tuesday it happened, wasn’t it?’
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    ‘It seems so,’ said Wimsey, ‘but just to make sure, they are checking up everybody’s whereabouts from Monday night onwards.’
    ‘Who’s everybody?’
    ‘Well — the people who knew Campbell best, and so on.’
    ‘I see. Well, you know we were here on Monday night, because we said good-night to you when you came in, and we went off by the 8.45 yesterday morning and we’ve got any amount of witnesses to show that we were in Glasgow between then and now, so I imagine we’re all right. Besides it would have taken more powerful people than Mary or me to tackle Mr. Campbell. What a relief to know that we can’t possibly be suspected!’
    ‘No — you