Lord Peter Wimsey [01] Whose Body? Read Free Page A

Jove!" he took his leave of Mr. Thipps.
     
    "My mother sent kind regards and all that," he said, shaking hands fervently; "hopes you'll soon be down at Denver again. Good-bye, Mrs. Thipps," he bawled kindly into the ear of the old lady. "Oh, no, my dear sir, please don't trouble to come down."
     
    He was none too soon. As he stepped out of the door and turned towards the station, the ambulance drew up from the other direction, and Inspector Sugg emerged from it, with two constables. The Inspector spoke to the officer on duty at the Mansions, and turned a suspicious gaze on Lord Peter's retreating back.
     
    "Dear old Sugg," said that nobleman, fondly, "dear, dear old bird! How he does hate me, to be sure."
     
    * This is the first Florence edition, 1481, by Niccolo di Lorenzo. Lord Peter's collection of printed Dantes is worth inspection. It includes, besides the famous Aldine 8vo. of 1502, the Naples folio of 1477–"edizione rarissima," according to Colomb. This copy has no history, and Mr. Parker's private belief is that its present owner conveyed it away by stealth from somewhere or other. Lord Peter's own account is that he "picked it up in a little place in the hills," when making a walking-tour through Italy.
     
    ** Lord Peter's wits were wool-gathering. The book is in the possession of Earl Spencer. The Brockelbury copy is incomplete, the five last signatures being altogether missing, but is unique in possessing the colophon.
     
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
    II
     
    "Excellent, Bunter," said Lord Peter, sinking with a sigh into a luxurious armchair. "I couldn't have done better myself. The thought of the Dante makes my mouth water–and the 'Four Sons of Aymon.' And you've saved me £60–that's glorious. What shall we spend it on, Bunter? Think of it–all ours, to do as we like with, for as Harold Skimpole so rightly observes, £60 saved is £60 gained, and I'd reckoned on spending it all. It's your saving, Bunter, and properly speaking, your £60. What do we want? Anything in your department? Would you like anything altered in the flat?"
     
    "Well, my lord, as your lordship is so good"–the man-servant paused, about to pour an old brandy into a liqueur glass.
     
    "Well, out with it, my Bunter, you imperturbable old hypocrite. It's no good talking as if you were announcing dinner–you're spilling the brandy. The voice is Jacob's voice, but the hands are the hands of Esau. What does that blessed darkroom of yours want now?"
     
    "There's a Double Anastigmat with a set of supplementary lenses, my lord," said Bunter, with a note almost of religious fervour. "If it was a case of forgery now–or footprints–I could enlarge them right up on the plate. Or the wide-angled lens would be useful. It's as though the camera had eyes at the back of its head, my lord. Look–I've got it here."
     
    He pulled a catalogue from his pocket, and submitted it, quivering, to his employer's gaze.
     
    Lord Peter perused the description slowly, the corners of his long mouth lifted into a faint smile.
     
    "It's Greek to me," he said, "and £50 seems a ridiculous price for a few bits of glass. I suppose, Bunter, you'd say £750 was a bit out of the way for a dirty old book in a dead language, wouldn't you?"
     
    "It wouldn't be my place to say so, my lord."
     
    "No, Bunter, I pay you £200 a year to keep your thoughts to yourself. Tell me, Bunter, in these democratic days, don't you think that's unfair?"
     
    "No, my lord."
     
    "You don't. D'you mind telling me frankly why you don't think it unfair?"
     
    "Frankly, my lord, your lordship is paid a nobleman's income to take Lady Worthington in to dinner and refrain from exercising your lordship's undoubted powers of repartee."
     
    Lord Peter considered this.
     
    "That's your idea, is it, Bunter? Noblesse oblige–for a consideration. I daresay you're right. Then you're better off than I am, because I'd have to behave myself to Lady Worthington if I hadn't a penny. Bunter, if I