"Woburn Square, cabbie, quick as you can!" "Paper!" "Paper!" "Miss Harriet Vane charged with murder!" "Star, Standard, and News." "Cheltenham races." "Paper!" "Paper!" "A striking face." "Not just conventionally pretty." "Much more than that." "Damned attractive." "More coffee, milord?" "Milord?" "Can that really be the face of a poisoner?" "Well, milord, I..." "Bunter, launch the Lagonda." "Can't wait, Bunter." "I'll get a cab back." "Very good, milord." "Very sorry." "Sorry, sir." "public gallery's full." "I'm looking for Chief Inspector Parker." "Is he expecting you?" "I believe so." "Right you are, sir." "Court Number One." "I'm obliged." "Come along!" "Please!" "There's no more room inside." "You're obstructing the entrance." "The case for the Crown is that Harriet Vane murdered Philip Boyes with arsenic." "The defense do not dispute that death was due to arsenical poisoning, and that you must accept." "The only question that remains for you is whether in fact that arsenic was deliberately administered by the prisoner with intent to murder." "The deceased, Philip Boyes, was, as you've heard, a writer." "He was 36 years old, and had published five novels and other literary works, works sometimes described as of an advanced type." "They preached doctrines which may seem to some of us immoral or seditious, such as atheism and anarchy and... ahem..." "what is known as free love." "There's Chief Inspector Parker, sir." "What are you doing here, Peter?" "I've been following the case in the newspapers." "And now you've come for the kill." "Charles, I think you've made a mistake." "I'm sure I've made many." "I'll catch up with you." "Shall I leave the gentleman with you?" "Yes." "I'll look after him." "This young woman, Harriet Vane... she didn't do it." "Will you tell me why?" "It's a hunch, as yet." "Ah." "A hunch." "Could you squeeze me in?" "Yes, come with me." "I'll get you in the back way." "Your mother's here, and your friend Mr. Arbuthnot." "Mama and Freddy?" "Heavens!" "what are they doing here?" "I think all of London's here." "The prisoner is also a novelist by profession, and it is very important to remember that she is a writer of so-called mystery or detective stories, stories that deal with various ingenious methods of committing murder and other crimes." "His honor has just started his summing up, so..." "Understood." "I'll creep in like a mouse." "I don't give much for her chances." "While there's life, there's hope." "If not very much time." "The prisoner herself..." "The prisoner herself has told us with great candor how she became attached to Philip Boyes, how for a considerable time she held out against his persuasions to live with him in an irregular manner." "There was, in fact, no reason at all why he should not have married her honorably, but apparently he'd represented himself as being conscientiously opposed to any formal marriage." "You have the evidence of Sylvia Marriott and Eiluned Price that the prisoner was made very unhappy by the attitude which he chose to take up." "At any rate, in November of 1927, the prisoner, worn out, as she tells us, by his unceasing importunities..." "Mesmerized, old bean." "She's got you completely mesmerized." "Now, you may feel, and quite properly, that this was a very wrong thing to do." "However, various friends have testified that they apparently continued to live on terms of the greatest mutual affection for nearly a year, until, in October of 1928," "Boyes finally offered her a legal marriage." "Now, you may find this surprising, but this offer caused the prisoner to become angry with Boyes, angry with him because, after persuading her against her will to adopt his principles of conduct, he had then renounced these principles" "and, as she says, made a fool of her." "And as a result, there was a quarrel, and the couple separated," "Miss Vane seeking temporary refuge with her friend Sylvia Marriott." "After a short while," "Harriet Vane leaves the sanctuary of Miss Marriott's establishment and takes a small flat in Doughty Street, while Philip Boyes accepts the invitation of his cousin, Mr. Norman Urquhart, to stay at his house in Woburn Square." "Although living in the same quarter of London," "Boyes and the accused do not seem to have met very often after the separation, but there's some evidence of a meeting towards the end of November, and another in the second week of December, and a third in January of this year." "These times are worth noting." "We now come to a date of the very greatest importance." "On Monday, December the 10th, 1928, a young woman who has been identified as Harriet Vane entered a chemist's shop kept by Mr. Brown in Southampton Row and purchased two ounces of commercial arsenic... saying she needed it to destroy rats." "She signed the poison book in the name of Mary Slater." "And on Saturday, January the 5th, we have another purchase of arsenic." "This time she gave the name of Edith Waters." "The prisoner has given an explanation of these purchases which you might consider, for what it's worth." "She says that she was engaged at that time in writing a novel about poisoning, and that she bought the drugs in order to prove by experiment how easy it was for an ordinary person to get hold of deadly poisons." "Now, these dates... the 10th of December last, and the 5th of January... there is a coincidence here which may be of significance, three sets of coincidences." "Harriet Vane and Philip Boyes met towards the end of November, and he has an attack of gastritis on November the 30th." "On December the 10th," "Harriet Vane purchases two ounces of arsenic." "They meet again in the second week of December, and on December the 15th, he has another attack." "On January the 5th, there is the purchase of weed killer." "they meet again soon after that, and on January the 12th, he is taken ill for the third time." "On his doctor's advice, he goes to visit his friend" "Mr. Ryland Vaughn and stays with him for a while in Wales." "This ought to blow the cobwebs away." "Yes." "I say, are you all right?" "It's just a twinge." "Oh, dash it." "I should never have brought you up here." "No." "No, tummy's all right." "More the heart." "You have heard Mr. Vaughn testify that Philip Boyes was not happy." "In fact, Mr. Vaughn formed the opinion he was fretting after Harriet Vane, and on February the 16th, we find him writing a letter to Miss Vane, an important letter." "I will refresh your memory." "No, no, no, no." "not this one." ""Dear Harriet," ""Life is an utter mess-up." ""I can't stick it out here any longer." ""I've decided to cut adrift and take a trip out west," ""but before I go, I want to see you once again" ""and find out if it isn't possible" ""to put things straight between us." ""You must do as you like, of course," ""but I still cannot understand the attitude you take up." ""If I can't make you see the thing" ""in the right perspective this time," "I'll shut it in for good."" "Now, that is a most ambiguous letter." "You've heard learned counsel for the defense suggest that certain phrases indicate an intention by the deceased to do away with himself if he could not effect a reconciliation with the accused." "Be that as it may, we now come to the accused's letter in reply." "(Inaudible whispering)" "Thank you." ""Dear Phil," ""You can come round at 9:30 on the 20th if you like, but you certainly will not make me change my mind."" "and it is simply signed "H."" "We now come to that day," "February the 20th." "The deceased had dinner with his cousin," "Mr. Norman Urquhart." "Nothing at all unusual in his manner or appearance was noticed, either by Mr. Urquhart or by the maid who waited at table." "Dinner was served at 8:00 exactly, and it would be a good thing if you would note that time, and also the list of things eaten and drunk." "The two cousins dined alone together, and first, by way of cocktails, each had a glass of sherry." "The wine was a fine Oloroso, 1847, and the maid decanted it from a fresh bottle." "We have here two witnesses." "The maid, Hannah Westlock, and of course the cook, Mrs. Pettican, both of whom have given the impression of being sensible and observant witnesses." "Well, there was the sherry." "then came a cup of cold bouillon, served by Hannah Westlock from the tureen on the sideboard." "Both men had some, and after dinner the bullion was finished by Miss Westlock and the cook in the kitchen." "After the soup came a piece of turbot with sauce." "The portions were again served from the sideboard and the dish then sent to be finished in the kitchen." "Then came a poulet en casserole... that is, chicken cut up and stewed slowly with vegetables in a fireproof cooking utensil." "Both men had some of this, and the maids finished the dish later." "The final course was a sweet omelette, made at the table." "The four eggs that were brought to the table in their shells were broken one by one into a bowl." "Sugar was added from a sifter." "Then Mr. Urquhart handed the bowl to Mr. Boyes, observing that he, Mr. Boyes, was the real dab hand at omelettes." "Philip Boyes then beat the eggs and sugar together, cooked the omelette, and filled it with hot jam, which was brought in by Hannah Westlock." "He then divided it into two portions, giving one to Mr. Urquhart and taking the remainder for himself." "I have been a little careful to remind you of all these things to show that we have good proof that every dish served at dinner was partaken of by two people at least, and in most cases four." "That omelette... the only dish that did not go out to the kitchen... was prepared by Philip Boyes himself and shared by his cousin." "Neither Mr. Urquhart," "Miss Westlock, nor the cook, Mrs. Pettican, felt any ill effects from this meal." "This brings us to 9:00." "After dinner, coffee is ordered, but Boyes excuses himself, saying he's calling upon Miss Vane, who will probably give him coffee." "And here indeed, according to the accused," "Boyes did take coffee, without milk or sugar." "Was poison placed into one of the cups beforehand?" "or introduced, perhaps, when the deceased's attention was momentarily distracted?" "The question, of course, is pure conjecture, but it has to be asked and considered a possibility." "According to the prisoner's evidence, the interview was not a satisfactory one." "Reproaches were uttered on both sides, and at 10:00 or thereabouts, the deceased expressed his intention of leaving her." "She says that he appeared uneasy and remarked that he was feeling unwell, adding that her behavior had greatly upset him." "At ten past 10:00... and I want you to note these times very carefully... the taxi driver, Burke, who was standing at the rank in Guilford Street, was approached by Boyes, who told him to take him to Woburn Square." "Woburn Square, cabbie, quick as you can!" "When the taxi stopped before Mr. Urquhart's residence," "Boyes required the assistance of the cabbie and Hannah Westlock to get him into the house, where he became increasingly ill." "He was taken upstairs to bed, and Mr. Urquhart summoned Dr. Grainger by phone." "The patient was vomiting persistently, and Dr. Grainger diagnosed the trouble as acute gastritis." "Time is getting on, and, as the medical evidence has still to be passed in review," "I shall adjourn the court for lunch." "Man:" "Be upstanding." "He would just at the beastliest moment, when everybody's appetite is thoroughly taken away." "Come, Wimsey." "Time for a spot of refreshment." "Must go and see Impey Biggs, but set one up next door for me." "There's a good fellow." "What do you make of it, Duchess?" "Most interesting." "Isn't that Peter's Miss Climpson on the jury?" "How did she get there, I wonder?" "Best not to inquire, I imagine." "Peter says she's wonderfully good at running his typing bureau and charity affairs and things." "Popping next door with old Wimsey." "Would you find a GT timely, old Duchess?" "Most timely, Freddy." "What an ingenious boy you are." "Cheers." "Cheers." "I say!" "I needed that." "Yes." "A crime reporter's lot is not a happy one." "Not until the lunch adjournment, anyway." "Thirsty work." "attractive little thing." "Think she did it?" "Judge evidently does." "Yes." "He's hostile." "It's a bit rum, her living with Boyes and then chucking him over when he tries to do the decent thing." "Ah!" "It's the ladies." "No accounting for the ladies." "No, by jove." "Hello!" "Eh?" "See what's just come in?" "The Dowager Duchess of Denver." "Isn't she the mother of..." "Wimsey, the noble criminologist." "Of course." "That's not him with her, though." "No, that's the Honorable Freddy," "Freddy Arbuthnot..." "a "City gent."" "Two GTs and a BS, please." "Large ones." "Well, Duchess, guilty or not guilty?" "I honestly don't know." "What's old Wimsey's interest?" "It's one of Chief Inspector Parker's cases, so naturally he's interested." "He's that, all right." "Oh." "Thank you." "Um... keep the change." "An hour at the most, I'd say." "And the verdict?" "This judge's summing-up?" "Oh, guilty." "Time for another?" "Two more gin and tonics, please." "After you." "Well, bung ho, Duchess." "Oh." "Cheers." "Freddy, what did you mean when you said you thought..." "Peter!" "Sorry, mama." "Here you are, old bean." "Thanks, Freddy." "Brandy and soda." "just the thing." "Had to have a word with the defense." "Poor Biggs is quite rattled by that old Judge Jeffreys, who is even now rehearsing to pronounce the death sentence." "That bad?" "And it mustn't happen." "Absolutely not." "Now, it is suggested that Philip Boyes may have taken arsenic himself sometime between leaving Harriet Vane's flat and hailing the taxi in Guilford Street." "Now, the prisoner's statement is that Philip Boyes left her at 10:00, and we know that at ten past he was in Guilford Street." "But Guilford Street is only a short way from Doughty Street, perhaps three minutes' walk, and you may ask yourselves, what was Boyes doing in the intervening ten minutes?" "A beast, but a just beast." "Bad, you know." "Definitely bad for our lady." "Oh, shut up, Freddy." "... an unfavourable interview with the prisoner, or, as is also possible, did he feel unwell and sit down somewhere to recover himself in those missing ten minutes?" "Those missing ten minutes must be the key." "Must find out where he went." "... purchases of arsenic in December of last year and January of this year, and of the deceased's attacks of sickness in November, December, and January." "The quarrel with the prisoner took place in October of 1928." "Boyes was finally taken ill on the evening of February the 20th, dying three days later." "There are four months between the quarrel and the death, and three months between the first illness and the death." "You may find some significance in those dates." "Veritable vulture!" "She's innocent, my pessimistic chum, and I'm going to prove it." "I wish you luck, old chap." "Well..." "I think that is the case as presented to you." "The case for the Crown, members of the jury, is that the prisoner, Harriet Vane, murdered her former lover, Philip Boyes, with arsenic." "He undoubtedly did take arsenic, and if you are satisfied that he died of it and she administered it with that intent, then it is your duty to find her guilty of murder." "They won't be long, shouldn't think." "Pretty damned obvious." "Yes." "We'll miss the 6:30 edition unless the jury gets a move on." "The old man's careful, but he's very slow." "They've got to make some show of considering their verdict." "Give 'em 20 minutes." "they'll want to smoke." "So do I." "Fancy one?" "Let's go." "Excuse me, love." "It's as open and shut as can be." "It's all perfectly convincing and watertight, but it's all wrong." "You can't really believe that." "But I do." "Where's the flaw in it?" "There isn't one." "There's nothing wrong with it at all, except that the girl is innocent." "Oh, yes, of course." "your hunch." "What do you say, Duchess?" "I wish I had known the girl." "An interesting face." "I've been reading one of her books... well-written, and I didn't guess who did it till the end." "Curious to write about murder and be accused of murder oneself." "We'll soon know what the jolly jury's made of it." "I expect Miss Climpson's telling 'em all about it." "Might take some while." "They must have gone to sleep." "There'll have to be a special edition." "What happens if they take all night?" "Then we sit here all night." "Well, the pubs are open." "I'm going for a quick one." "Give us a shout if anything happens." "Right." "What can they be up to?" "Perhaps they don't think she did it after all." "Nonsense." "Of course she did." "You could tell by her face..." "Hard, and she never cried or anything." "I say!" "A fair old crowd collected." "Are they pro or con?" "The girl?" "Mixed, I'd say." "Men pro, women con." "I'm amazed it's taking so long." "Ah!" "Looks as if they're ready." "(Knock on door)" "We have a verdict, m'lud." "Oh." "Man:" "Be upstanding." "Look at their faces." "They say if it's going to be guilty, they never look at the prisoner." "Let the defendant be upstanding." "Members of the jury, who shall speak as your foreman?" "I shall." "Are you all agreed upon a verdict?" "I'm sorry to say that we find it impossible to come to an agreement." "(Crowd murmurs)" "Do you think with a little more time you may be able to reach an agreement?" "I'm afraid not, milord." "Well, this is very unfortunate." "In that case, there's nothing for it but to thank the jury for their services, and to discharge you, and to order a fresh trial." "Be upstanding." "Oh ho ho!" "Ha ha ha!" "Good shot, Wimsey!" "good shot!" "Thank you." "Not bad." "Not bad." "I must say your Miss Climpson definitely saved the day." "A lady of strong convictions." "Certainly given us another chance." "What's the form about that, by the way?" "Pretty soon, I'd say." "wouldn't you, Crofts?" "They won't want to keep the girl in custody longer than necessary." "I spoke to the Listing Officer." "He's putting the retrial in for the 17th of July." "God!" "That's only 30 days!" "Thing is, can we do anything to improve our case?" "There must be some evidence somewhere, and I do believe in the girl's innocence." "Damn it, Wimsey, so do I." "Well, now, let's see what we can do with that." "Crofts, you must do something for me." "I must see Miss Vane." "Can you get me in as part of your outfit?" "I'd like to hear her version of the story." "I think it can be arranged." "This way, please." "You know the regulations, sir, I'm sure." "You sits at one end and the prisoner at the other, and you must not move from your seat, nor pass any object over the table." "Here we are, sir." "I'll be there to see you through the glass." "Rules, milord." "But I shan't be able to overhear nothing." "If you don't mind, I shall have to take these." "Thank you, sir." "She won't be a tick." "(Footsteps approach)" "(Door opens)" "We're supposed to stay seated, you know." "Lord Peter Wimsey... come from Mr. Crofts?" "Yes." "I heard the case and all that, and I thought there might be something I could do to help." "That's very good of you." "Not at all." "I rather enjoy investigating things, if you see what I mean." "I know." "Being a writer of detective stories," "I've naturally followed your career with interest." "That's good, because you'll understand" "I'm not such an ass as I'm appearing at present." "You don't appear an ass, though this background doesn't altogether suit your style." "Nor yours." "Maybe." "I'm afraid I'm rather a hopeless case." "Oh, don't say that." "It can't be hopeless unless you actually did it, and I know you didn't." "Well, I didn't, as a matter of fact." "You don't happen to know who did, I suppose?" "I really believe" "Philip took the stuff himself." "He was finally a defeatist sort of person." "I suppose he took your departure rather hard." "I think it was rather he didn't feel sufficiently appreciated." "He was apt to think people were in league to spoil his chances." "And, uh, were they?" "I don't think so, but I do think he offended people." "He'd demand things as a right, and that annoys people, you know." "Did he get on with his cousin?" "Oh, yes, though of course Philip said it was no more than Mr. Urquhart's duty to look after him." "His idea was that great artists deserve to be taken care of by the ordinary man." ""Great artists"?" "Forgive me, but, um..." "Forgive you what?" "You were very fond of Philip Boyes." "I must have been, mustn't I?" "Not necessarily." "You might have been sorry for him, or bewitched by him, or badgered to death by him." "All those things." "Were you friends?" "No." "Philip wasn't the sort of man to make a friend of a woman." "He wanted devotion." "I certainly gave him that." "I couldn't stand being put on probation like some office boy, to see if I was good enough to be condescended to." "I thought he was honest when he said he didn't believe in marriage, and it turned out to be some sort of test to see whether my devotion was abject enough." "Well, there you have it." "I thought Philip had made both himself and me ridiculous, and the moment I saw that, that was it, the end." "I quite see that." "Such a Victorian attitude for a man with advanced ideas." "But, um, you're not opposed to matrimony on principle?" "I mean, if offered on terms not already compromised, and by the right person." "Oh, no." "Oh, that's good." "Might I ask why?" "Makes it easier for me, you see." "Have I got this right?" "You are proposing marriage to me?" "Absolutely right." "Do you do this all the time, Lord Peter?" "Only when I'm serious." "And you're serious now?" "Oh," "I know I've got a silly face, but I can't help that." "And I am..." "serious, I mean." "I don't positively repel you or anything like that, I suppose?" "No, you don't positively repel me." "Oh." "That's good." "Any... any, uh, minor alterations?" "I mean, changing my tailor... no, I couldn't in all conscience offer that." "But parting the mane on the other side, growing a toothbrush, or cashiering the eyeglass?" "Don't, please." "Don't alter yourself in any particular." "Do you really mean that?" "I-I'm not trying to blackmail you into matrimony." "I would investigate this case for the fun of the thing." "That's very good of you." "Not at all." "It's my hobby..." "I mean investigating things, not proposing to people." "(Chuckles)" "Well, cheeri-frightfully-ho, and, um," "I'll, uh, I'll call again if I may." "I'll give the footman orders to admit you." "You will always find me at home." "Wimsey:" "Has a sense of humor, and brains." "Life wouldn't be dull." "One would wake up, and there would be a whole day of jolly things to do, and then one would come home and go to bed." "And that would be jolly, too!" "Good afternoon." "Oh, God." "July the 17th." "One month." "Four weeks." "28 days." "And I don't know where to begin." "Ladies!" "Good afternoon!" "Good afternoon, Lord Peter, sir." "A force for good at 60 words a minute." "My dear Lord Peter!" "Miss Climpson, admirable Miss Climpson," "I haven't had an opportunity of thanking you for your sterling performance at the trial." "I simply couldn't, in all conscience, have done other than I did." "Miss Climpson, why do people kill people?" "I really don't know." "It's so dangerous, as well as wicked." "One wonders how anybody has the effrontery to undertake it, and very often they gain so little by it." "Miss Vane is innocent." "I firmly believe so." "The key must be, what did Boyes do after he left Miss Vane?" "There were ten minutes unaccounted for." "Might he not have entered some public house for refreshment, and there met an enemy?" "By jove, that's an idea worth looking into." "Place, public house." "next, motive." "Do have a buttered tea-cake." "Thank you." "Insurance..." "was Boyes insured?" "It doesn't seem to have occurred to anyone to find out." "If so, who would have an insurable interest?" "His father, cousin, and I suppose Miss Vane, if the policy was taken out whilst they were living together." "Hmm." "Some possibilities, there." "Inheritance?" "Did Boyes have anything to leave?" "His father's a parson, so that has a threadbare look, but I'd better go and see him and his publisher." "Oh!" "Thank you very much." "Who was this fellow Boyes, anyway?" "I don't know a thing about him." "He might have been a blackguard... knew unmentionable things about his friends... probably writing a book to show somebody up, has to be suppressed at all costs." "Dash it, his cousin's a Solicitor." "Perhaps he's been embezzling trust deeds or something, and Boyes was going to split on him." "Urquhart puts some arsenic in his soup." "Ah!" "Then he drinks it himself." "No, I'm afraid Hannah Westlock's evidence rather knocks that on the head." "We shall have to fall back on the stranger at the pub." "Yes." "The missing ten minutes." "Or suicide, which I am rather inclined to believe in, only what happened to the empty bottle?" "Or paper, if he took it in powdered form." "Where would they look for it?" "Yes." "If it wasn't on him, it could be anywhere." "It's going to be difficult trying to find a bottle or a piece of paper that was chucked away six months ago." "Did you say something about buttered tea-cakes?" "All right." "Boyes..." "query... arsenic." "Anything else?" "Yes." "Find out if Boyes visited any pub in the neighbourhood of Doughty Street between, say, 9:50 and ten past 10:00 on the evening of February the 20th, whether he met anyone, and what he took to drink." "Query... pub." "Yes?" "Thirdly, whether any paper or bottle that might have contained arsenic was picked up in the district." "Oh, is that all?" "Perhaps you'd like me to trace the bus ticket dropped by Miss Brown outside Selfridges during the last Christmas rush." "I would not dream of patronizing an officer of your caliber by setting him such a simple problem." "And now, you must excuse me." "I have to go and see a man about a dog, or rather a clergyman about his son." "You don't know of anybody who might have had an interest in his death?" "Did he make a will?" "Yes, he did." "Not that he had much to leave, poor boy." "His books were very cleverly written... he had a fine intellect... but that did not bring any good sums of money." "He left his copyrights to someone, I suppose." "Yes." "Oh..." "Uh..." "Yes." "He wished to leave them to me." "But his opinions, you see..." "Not compatible." "No, he left it to his good friend" "Mr. Vaughn." "Might I ask when this will was made?" "Dated at the time of his visit to Wales." "Before that, I believe he made one leaving everything to Miss Vane." "To Miss Vane?" "I suppose she'd know about that." "Not, in any case, an important sum." "Oh, no, no." "If my son made 50 pounds a year from his books, that would be the utmost." "But they tell me that, after this, his new book will do better." "Yes." "The public will always respond to sensation, I'm afraid." "Would you care..." "Oh." "Oh, uh..." "Perhaps you'd care to risk one of these." "Oh, how very kind." "Thank you." "I say." "He had no private money to leave, I don't suppose?" "Oh, no." "Nothing whatever." "There was never any money in our family..." "Proverbial church mice, except, that is, for Cremorna Garden." "For..." "I beg your pardon?" "My wife's aunt, the notorious Cremorna Garden of the '60s." "Oh, good lord!" "Yes, the actress!" "Yes." "She was never mentioned, of course." "One did not inquire into the way she got her money." "No different to anybody else, I expect, but in those days one was easily shocked." "We hadn't seen her for over 50 years." "I believe she's getting very childlike now." "I had no idea she was still alive." "Oh, she must be over 90." "Certainly Philip never had any money from her." "Oh, my dear chap, a glass of Madeira?" "What must you think of me?" "Been buzzing like a bee." "I've seen the Reverend Boyes, your publisher, Boyes' publisher, and I've come up with a plot for a detective story." "A good plot?" "A very good plot." "Do tell." "Well, you see, it's about this girl... (Thumping on glass)" "Oh." "Who writes books... detective stories, actually... and she has a friend who also writes books." "I'll bet she's a sweetie at home." "Mnh-mnh." "Neither of them are best-sellers, you see, just novelists." "That's the kind of thing that might happen." "And, um, the friend makes a will, leaving all his money... receipts from his books and so forth... to the girl." "Now, the girl, who has got rather fed up with him, comes up with a grand scoop to turn them both into best-sellers." "She polishes him off by the very method used in her latest thriller." "A daring stroke!" "And, of course, his books immediately become best-sellers, and she grabs the pool." "Most ingenious." "It's an entirely new motive for murder." "Don't you think it would be a little dangerous?" "She might be accused of the murder." "Well, then her books would become best-sellers, too." "True, but possibly she wouldn't live to enjoy the profits because, unless she were suspected, arrested, and tried, the scoop would only half come off." "Yes, but then you, as an experienced mystery-monger, could come up with something to get round that." "If she were very wicked, she could push the blame onto someone else, or lead people to suppose that her friend had done away with himself." "Too vague, I think." "how would she do that?" "I can't say." "I'll give it careful thought and let you know." "Here's an idea... she's a person with monomania." "There's somebody she wishes to benefit who's badly in need of money... father, mother, sister, lover." "She makes out a will in his or her favour, allows herself to be condemned for the crime, knowing that the beloved object will then inherit." "how's that?" "Very, very good, but there's a snag." "They wouldn't give her the friend's money, would they?" "You're not allowed to profit by crime." "Oh, hang!" "(Mirthless chuckle)" "I know!" "She could make over a deed of gift." "Yes." "Look." "If she did that immediately after the murder, a deed of gift of everything she possessed, that would include everything under the friend's will." "It would then all go to the beloved object, and I don't believe the law could stop it." "You're too clever by half." "Shall we write it?" "Let's." "Only, you know," "I'm sure we won't get the chance." "You're not to say that." "You are to keep smiling." "It suits you." "She's as innocent as the day is long." "She'd never have come up with such a motive if she'd really done it." "It'd be putting a noose round her own neck." "I think it's high time" "I paid a visit on his cousin, Urquhart." "This is Mr. Urquhart's temporary address, milord," "Care of Mrs. Wrayburn, Appleford," "Windale, Westmoreland." "Windale, Westmoreland." "has a pretty ring to it." "I do not think Mr. Urquhart will be away for very long." "Is there anything that we can do to help?" "No thanks." "I wanted to see him myself, personally." "It concerns the very sad death of his cousin." "Shocking business, that, yes." "A fine young man, Mr. Boyes." "He and Mr. Urquhart were great friends, and Mr. Urquhart took it very much to heart." "Were you present at the trial, milord?" "Yes." "What did you think of the verdict?" "Very surprised..." "surprised indeed." "Seemed a clear enough case, but juries are unreliable, especially nowadays, with women on them." "We see a good deal of the fair sex, and very few of them are remarkable for possessing the legal mind." "Still, without them there'd be less litigation, so it's all good for business." "Yes." "Very good, milord." "Very good." "I am an old-fashioned man." "The ladies, while they adorned and inspired, did not take any active part in affairs." "Take our young lady clerk." "I do not say she was not a good worker, but all of a sudden a wind comes upon her and away she goes to get married, leaving us in the lurch just when Mr. Urquhart is away." "Yes, Lord Peter, everything is bright and beautiful." "What can we do for you?" "There's a vacancy for a Confidential Clerk at Mr. Norman Urquhart's." "You'll remember him from the trial..." "The Solicitor, Bedford Row." "Have you got anyone?" "Just one moment, Lord Peter." "Yes, I think Miss Murchison's becoming available." "Shall we send her along?" "Right away, and see that her skirt's the regulation four inches below the knee." "The Head Clerk's in charge, and the last girl left to get married, so he's feeling anti-sex appeal." "Get her in, and I'll give her instructions." "Bless you, and may your shadow never grow bulkier." "You're to go to the Solicitors Urquharts in Bedford Row and see the Head Clerk," "Mr. Pond." "There's a vacancy for a Confidential Clerk." "Is this a job for Lord Peter?" "Miss Phelps?" "I have Lord Peter for you." "Marjory?" "Dear Marjory," "I trust I do not interrupt some inspired work of sculpture." "No, dear me, the muses are so fickle." "Look here, I need an entree into Bohemia." "The Misses Marriot and Price." "I believe you know them." "This evening?" "That would be most convenient." "Oh, Peter, are you onto that?" "How gorgeous!" "Which side are you taking?" "Defense." "Oh, hurray." "Why hurray?" "It's much more exciting, and difficult, isn't it?" "I'm afraid so." "We're about there." "Thank you." "So this is Bohemia?" "Or Chelsea SW3." "It's two and a half." "Yes, thank you." "I hope this isn't exploiting our acquaintance." "I did ask you not to go away forever, didn't I?" "Yes, you did, bless you." "Do you know Harriet Vane, by the way?" "Yes and no." "I've seen her with the Boyes/Vaughn crowd." "Mm-hmm." "Do you like her?" "So-so." "And, um, Philip Boyes?" "Oh, never stirred a heartbeat." "But did you like him?" "Well, one didn't "like," exactly." "One either fell for him or not, as the case might be." "And, um, and the friend, Vaughn?" "He was just a hanger-on." "Uh, let's see..." "Hope these dear ladies won't mind the intrusion." "Oh, no." "Good heavens, no." "They're Harriet's friends." "It was they who took her in after the bust-up with Boyes." "Sylvia's a dear." "Eluined is rather anti-man, but she's a good sort." "Just in time for coffee." "Sorry, Eluined, about the short notice." "Nonsense." "Come in." "This is Lord Peter Wimsey." "Hello." "(Coughing)" "I'm a friend of Harriet Vane's." "I'm so sorry." "Why be sorry?" "She needs friends."