More Work for the Undertaker by Margery Allingham Page A

trying to comprehend the enormity of the thing she was saying, she went on placidly: ‘My mother’s poetry was mainly very bad. I have inherited a modicum of my father’s intelligence and I am able to see that. She wrote one verse, though, which has always seemed to me to say something, although I daresay many people would find it nonsense. It goes:
    â€œI will build me a house of rushes,
    Intricate; basket-work. Through the stems the wind rushes
    Inquisitive, light-fingered. It torments, its breath crushes.
    I shall not notice it. I shall be busy.”
    You wouldn’t like any more of that tea, I suppose?’
    It was half-an-hour before he got back to his room and he went to bed shivering. The book Miss Jessica had lent him lay on his coverlet. It was ill-printed and impossibly dog-eared, with a crudely stamped cover and end-papers crowded with long out-dated advertisements. He had opened it at random and the passages which he had read still hung in his mind as he closed his eyes.
    C URDS (the residue of sour milk often left by ignorant housewives in bottle or can). These may be made more palatable by the addition of chopped sage, chives, or, as a luxury, watercress. I have myself, for I am not a heavy feeder, existed very comfortably on this mess, taken with a little bread, for days together, varying each fresh day’s dish by the incorporation of a different herb.
    E NERGY . Conserve energy. So-called scientists will tell you it is no more than heat. Use no more of it, then, than you need at any one time.I estimate an hour’s sleep to equal one pound avoirdupois of heavy food. Be humble. Take what is given you, even if the gift is contemptuously offered. The giver is rewarded in his own soul be he virtuous or merely ostentatious. Be calm. Worry and self-pity use up as much energy (i.e., heat) as deep thought. Thus you will be free and no burden to relatives or the community. Your mind will also be lighter and more fit for the contemplation and enjoyment of the Beauties of Nature and the Conceits of Man, both of which are inexpensive luxuries the intelligent can freely afford.
    â€˜B ONES . The large and nutritious shin-bone of an ox can be purchased for one penny. On the road home from the butcher the Wise Man may descry in the hedge a root of dandelion and, if he is in luck, garlic . . .’
    Mr Campion turned over on his face. ‘Oh God,’ he said.

8. Apron Strings
    HE BECAME AWARE that the sound which had awakened him was the opening of his door, and that someone, whose hand was still on the knob, was talking in the passage just outside. It was Charlie Luke.
    â€˜. . . wasting your time on the roof,’ he was saying with an awkward gentleness. ‘You’ll also break your neck. It may be nothing to do with me and if I’m speaking out of turn I apologize, but – don’t take it like that. I’m only putting you straight.’
    The tone, if not the words, put Mr Campion in the picture. He listened for the reply, but the slender thread of sound, when it came, was unidentifiable.
    â€˜I’m sorry.’ The D.D.I. sounded out of his element. ‘No, I shan’t tell anybody, of course not. What d’you think I am? The loudspeaker on a railway station? Oh, I beg your pardon, Miss White, I was not aware that I was shouting. Good morning!’
    There was a violent movement outside and the door shuddered open an inch or so, but was closed again as he sent a parting shot after her.
    â€˜All I say is, keep your feet out of the wheel.’
    He came in at last looking worried rather than crestfallen.
    â€˜Little toffeenose,’ he said. ‘Well, she can’t say I didn’t warn her. Morning, sir. Renee gave me these when I said I was coming up.’ He set a tray containing two cups of tea on the dressing table. ‘It’s a homely little place for a murder, isn’t it?’ he went on, looking round the bedroom.