The Case of the Gilded Fly by Edmund Crispin Page B

sweep over him. ‘I’m glad of that, anyway,’ he said. ‘It means no one else is involved.’
    â€˜Ar, that’s right. But what could ’ave induced ’er to do such a thing, I should like to know? Such a pretty, polite girl, I alwaysthought, without a care in the world as one could tell. Well, I must be getting along. See you later, sir, I’ve no doubt.’ He saluted and went out, his heavy boots clumping down the steps and into the quadrangle.
    One man at least has retained his illusions about Yseut, thought Nigel bitterly. There must be few of her acquaintance who would be sorry to hear her dead. He wondered where Donald was, and how he would take the news. Then he went and joined the others, though for the moment he carefully refrained from looking again at the body.
    Fen and Sir Richard were engaged in a brief muttered colloquy. Robert Warner stood nearby, looking about him with an air of methodical concentration. It was almost with a sense of shock that Nigel realized his presence. They had come in together less than five minutes ago, but the shock of seeing Yseut had driven everything else from his mind. He ventured to look again at the body, and was relieved to find that his first sickness did not return.
    Sir Richard turned to Robert. ‘I don’t want to detain you, Mr Warner,’ he said.
    â€˜I’m so sorry,’ Robert replied. ‘Of course you don’t want a lot of people hanging around. It was only that – well, this has come as such a shock, and that I feel – well, responsible for the girl, in a way.’
    â€˜You know who she is?’ said Sir Richard sharply.
    â€˜Oh, yes. Her name is Yseut Haskell, and she’s an actress at the Repertory Theatre here.’
    â€˜I see,’ said Sir Richard more cordially. ‘In that case, no doubt you’ll be able to help us. But I’d be glad if you didn’t stop here. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind waiting in Fen’s room for a bit – I can’t do anything until the local people arrive. If you smoke his cigarettes and drink his whisky I’m sure he won’t mind.’
    â€˜No, no, make yourself at home,’ said Fen vaguely. He was wandering about the room staring glumly at the furniture. ‘These rooms are damp,’ he added. ‘Something ought to be done about them. I’ll speak to the Domestic Bursar.’
    â€˜And Mr Blake –’ said Sir Richard, turning to Nigel.
    â€˜Oh, don’t send Nigel away,’ Fen interrupted. ‘I want him to stand guard with me. I suppose,’ he continued rather wistfully, ‘that I’m to be allowed to help?’
    Sir Richard grinned. ‘By all means. But I don’t think you’ll have much detecting to do in this case. Suicide is the obvious verdict.’
    â€˜Yes?’ said Fen, looking at him curiously. ‘I’ll keep an eye on things, just the same, if you don’t mind.’
    â€˜Just as you like. I must go and phone. Don’t let anyone in.’ And he went off upstairs with Robert.
    Now for the first time Nigel had leisure to look about him. Yseut was lying on her side, with her legs bent up under her, her left arm pinioned under her, and the right flung out with palm upwards. Near it lay a heavy, blue-metal revolver, and on one of the fingers was a ring of curious design. She was wearing a dark brown coat and a green skirt, brown shoes and silk stockings, but was apparently without hat or gloves or bag. She lay in front of a chest of drawers, one of whose drawers was open with the contents untidily displayed, and on which lay a hand-mirror, a brush and comb and an expensive-looking bottle of hair-lotion. The rest of the room offered little to Nigel’s inexperienced eye. There was a bed, a wash-stand and a wardrobe, a rug beside the bed, a bedside table with a lamp, a book and an ashtray containing one or two stale cigarette stubs, and several odd shoes