crowd–”
Parker whistled.
“Sinning above his station in life?”
“Very much so. But you know Dian de Momerie. She gets more kick out of corrupting the bourgeois–she enjoys the wrestle with their little consciences. She's a bad lot, that girl. I took her home last night, so I ought to know.”
“Peter!” said Lady Mary. “Quite apart from your morals, which alarm me, how did you get into that gang? I should have thought they'd as soon have taken up with Charles, here, or the Chief Commissioner.”
“Oh, I went incog. A comedy of masks. And you needn't worry about my morals. The young woman became incapably drunk on the way home, so I pushed her inside her dinky little maisonette in Garlic Mews and tucked her up on a divan in the sitting-room to astonish her maid in the morning. Though she's probably past being astonished. But, the point is that I found out a good bit about Victor Dean.”
“Just a moment,” interrupted Parker, “did he dope?”
“Apparently not, though I'll swear it wasn't Dian's fault if he didn't. According to his sister, he was too strong-minded. Possibly he tried it once and felt so rotten that he didn't try it again .... Yes–I know what you're thinking. If he was dopey, he might have fallen downstairs on his own account. But I don't think that'll work. These things have a way of coming out at post-mortems. The question was raised ... no; it wasn't that.”
“Did Dian have any opinion on the subject?”
“She said he wasn't a sport. All the same, she seems to have kept him in tow from about the end of November to the end of April–nearly six months, and that's a long time [Pg 80] for Dian. I wonder what the attraction was. I suppose the whelp must have had something engaging about him.”
“Is that the sister's story?”
“Yes; but she says that Victor 'had great ambitions.' I don't quite know what she thinks he meant by that.”
“I suppose she realized that Dian was his mistress. Or wasn't she?”
“Must have been. But I rather gather his sister thought he was contemplating matrimony.”
Parker laughed.
“After all,” said Lady Mary, “he probably didn't tell his sister everything.”
“Damned little, I should imagine. She was quite honestly upset by last night's show. Apparently the party Dean took her to wasn't quite so hot. Why did he take her? That's another problem. He said he wanted her to meet Dian, and no doubt the kid imagined she was being introduced to a future-in-law. But Dean–you'd think he'd want to keep his sister out of it. He couldn't, surely, really have wanted to corrupt her, as Willis said.”
“Who is Willis?”
“Willis is a young man who foams at the mouth if you mention Victor Dean, who was once Victor Dean's dearest friend, who is in love with Victor Dean's sister, is furiously jealous of me, thinks I'm tarred with the same brush as Victor Dean, and dogs my footsteps with the incompetent zeal of fifty Watsons. He writes copy about face-cream and corsets, is the son of a provincial draper, was educated at a grammar school and wears, I deeply regret to say, a double-breasted waistcoat. That is the most sinister thing about him–except that he admits to having been in the lavatory when Victor Dean fell downstairs, and the lavatory, as I said before, is the next step to the roof.”
“Who else was in the lavatory?”
“I haven't asked him yet. How can I? It's horribly hampering to one's detective work when one isn't supposed to be detecting, because one daren't ask any questions, much. But if whoever it was knew I was detecting, then whatsoever [Pg 81] questions I asked, I shouldn't get any answers. It wouldn't matter if only I had the foggiest notion whom or what I was detecting, but looking among about a hundred people for the perpetrator of an unidentified crime is rather difficult.”
“I thought you were looking for a murderer.”
“So I am–but I don't think I shall ever get the murderer till I know why the murder was
Parker whistled.
“Sinning above his station in life?”
“Very much so. But you know Dian de Momerie. She gets more kick out of corrupting the bourgeois–she enjoys the wrestle with their little consciences. She's a bad lot, that girl. I took her home last night, so I ought to know.”
“Peter!” said Lady Mary. “Quite apart from your morals, which alarm me, how did you get into that gang? I should have thought they'd as soon have taken up with Charles, here, or the Chief Commissioner.”
“Oh, I went incog. A comedy of masks. And you needn't worry about my morals. The young woman became incapably drunk on the way home, so I pushed her inside her dinky little maisonette in Garlic Mews and tucked her up on a divan in the sitting-room to astonish her maid in the morning. Though she's probably past being astonished. But, the point is that I found out a good bit about Victor Dean.”
“Just a moment,” interrupted Parker, “did he dope?”
“Apparently not, though I'll swear it wasn't Dian's fault if he didn't. According to his sister, he was too strong-minded. Possibly he tried it once and felt so rotten that he didn't try it again .... Yes–I know what you're thinking. If he was dopey, he might have fallen downstairs on his own account. But I don't think that'll work. These things have a way of coming out at post-mortems. The question was raised ... no; it wasn't that.”
“Did Dian have any opinion on the subject?”
“She said he wasn't a sport. All the same, she seems to have kept him in tow from about the end of November to the end of April–nearly six months, and that's a long time [Pg 80] for Dian. I wonder what the attraction was. I suppose the whelp must have had something engaging about him.”
“Is that the sister's story?”
“Yes; but she says that Victor 'had great ambitions.' I don't quite know what she thinks he meant by that.”
“I suppose she realized that Dian was his mistress. Or wasn't she?”
“Must have been. But I rather gather his sister thought he was contemplating matrimony.”
Parker laughed.
“After all,” said Lady Mary, “he probably didn't tell his sister everything.”
“Damned little, I should imagine. She was quite honestly upset by last night's show. Apparently the party Dean took her to wasn't quite so hot. Why did he take her? That's another problem. He said he wanted her to meet Dian, and no doubt the kid imagined she was being introduced to a future-in-law. But Dean–you'd think he'd want to keep his sister out of it. He couldn't, surely, really have wanted to corrupt her, as Willis said.”
“Who is Willis?”
“Willis is a young man who foams at the mouth if you mention Victor Dean, who was once Victor Dean's dearest friend, who is in love with Victor Dean's sister, is furiously jealous of me, thinks I'm tarred with the same brush as Victor Dean, and dogs my footsteps with the incompetent zeal of fifty Watsons. He writes copy about face-cream and corsets, is the son of a provincial draper, was educated at a grammar school and wears, I deeply regret to say, a double-breasted waistcoat. That is the most sinister thing about him–except that he admits to having been in the lavatory when Victor Dean fell downstairs, and the lavatory, as I said before, is the next step to the roof.”
“Who else was in the lavatory?”
“I haven't asked him yet. How can I? It's horribly hampering to one's detective work when one isn't supposed to be detecting, because one daren't ask any questions, much. But if whoever it was knew I was detecting, then whatsoever [Pg 81] questions I asked, I shouldn't get any answers. It wouldn't matter if only I had the foggiest notion whom or what I was detecting, but looking among about a hundred people for the perpetrator of an unidentified crime is rather difficult.”
“I thought you were looking for a murderer.”
“So I am–but I don't think I shall ever get the murderer till I know why the murder was
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