“Of course I want to get at the facts.”
“Very well; I’ve told you the next step to take.”
“Damn it all,” said Fentiman, discontentedly; “I suppose it’ll have to be done, then. But I don’t know whom to apply to or how to do it.”
“Sit down, then, and I’ll dictate the letter for you.”
From this there was no escape, and Robert Fentiman did as he was told, grumbling.
“There’s George. I ought to consult him.”
“It doesn’t concern George, except indirectly. That’s right. Now write to Murbles, telling him what you’re doing and instructing him to let the other party know.”
“Oughtn’t we to consult about the whole thing with Murbles first?”
“I’ve already consulted Murbles, and he agrees it’s the thing to do.”
“These fellows would agree to anything that means fees and trouble.”
“Just so. Still, solicitors are necessary evils. Is that finished?”
“Yes.”
“Give the letters to me; I’ll see they’re posted. Now you needn’t worry any more about it. Murbles and I will see to it all, and the detective-wallah is looking after Oliver all right, so you can run away and play.”
“You—”
“I’m sure you’re going to say how good it is of me to take all this trouble. Delighted, I’m sure. It’s of no consequence. A pleasure, in fact. Have a drink.”
The disconcerted major refused the drink rather shortly and prepared to depart.
“You mustn’t think I’m not grateful, Wimsey, and all that. But it is rather unseemly.”
“With all your experience,” said Wimsey, “you oughtn’t to be so sensitive about corpses. We’ve seen many things much unseemlier than a nice, quiet little resurrection in a respectable cemetery.”
“Oh, I don’t care twopence about the corpse,” retorted the Major, “but the thing doesn’t look well. That’s all.”
“Think of the money,” grinned Wimsey, shutting the door of the flat upon him.
He returned to the library, balancing the two letters in his hand. “There’s many a man now walking the streets of London,” said he, “through not clearing trumps. Take these letters to the post, Bunter. And Mr. Parker will be dining here with me this evening. We will have a perdrix aux choux and a savoury to follow, and you can bring up two bottles of the Chambertin.”
“Very good, my lord.”
Wimsey’s next proceeding was to write a little confidential note to an official whom he knew very well at the Home Office. This done, he returned to the telephone and asked for Penberthy’s number.
“That you, Penberthy?… Wimsey speaking… Look here, old man, you know that Fentiman business?… Yes, well, we’re applying for an exhumation.”
“For a what?”
“An exhumation. Nothing to do with your certificate. We know that’s all right. It’s just by way of getting a bit more information about when the beggar died.”
He outlined his suggestion.
“Think there’s something in it?”
“There might be, of course.”
“Glad to hear you say that. I’m a layman in these matters, but it occurred to me as a good idea.”
“Very ingenious.”
“I always was a bright lad. You’ll have to be present, of course.”
“Am I to do the autopsy?”
“If you like. Lubbock will do the analysis.”
“Analysis of what?”
“Contents of the doings. Whether he had kidneys on toast or eggs and bacon and all that.”
“Oh, I see. I doubt if you’ll get much from that, after all this time.”
“Possibly not, but Lubbock had better have a squint at it.”
“Yes, certainly. As I gave the certificate, it’s better that my findings should be checked by somebody.”
“Exactly. I knew you’d feel that way. You quite understand about it?”
“Perfectly. Of course, if we’d had any idea there was going to be all this uncertainty, I’d have made a post-mortem at the time.”
“Naturally you would. Well, it can’t be helped. All in the day’s work. I’ll let you know when it’s to be. I suppose the Home Office will send somebody along. I thought I ought just to let you know about it.”
“Very good of you. Yes. I’m glad to know. Hope nothing unpleasant will come out.”
“Thinking of your certificate?”
“Oh, well — no — I’m not worrying much about that. Though you never know, of course. I was thinking of that rigor, you know. Seen Captain Fentiman lately?”
“Yes. I didn’t mention—”
“No. Better not, unless it becomes absolutely necessary. Well, I’ll hear from you later, then?”
“That’s the idea. Good-bye.”
That day was a day of incident.