“I kept it,” replied Mrs. Munns, nodding her head, “I kept it. Because you see, if they did return with a warrant and I’d destroyed that bottle, where should I be?”
“Quite right,” said Wimsey, with his eye on Sheila.
“Always keep on the right side of the law,” agreed Mr. Munns, “and nobody can’t interfere with you. That’s what I say. I’m a Conservative, I am. I don’t hold with these Socialist games. Have another.”
“Not just now,” said Wimsey. “And we really must not keep you and Mrs. Munns up any longer. But, look here! You see, Captain Fentiman had shell-shock after the War, and he is liable to do these little odd things at times — break things up, I mean, and lose his memory and go wandering about. So Mrs Fentiman is naturally anxious about his not having turned up this evening.”
“Ay,” said Mr. Munns, with relish, “I knew a fellow like that. Went clean off his rocker he did one night. Smashed up his family with a beetle — a paviour he was by profession, and that’s how he came to have a beetle in his house — pounded ’em to a jelly, he did, his wife and five little children, and went off and drownded himself in the Regent’s Canal. And, what’s more, when they got him out, he didn’t remember a word about it, not one word. So they sent him to — what’s that place? Dartmoor? no, Broadmoor, that’s it, where Ronnie True went to with his little toys and all.”
“Shut up, you fool,” said Wimsey, savagely.
“Haven’t you got feelings?” demanded his wife.
Sheila got up, and made a blind effort in the direction of the door.
“Come and lie down,” said Wimsey. “you’re worn out. Hallo! there’s Robert, I expect. I left a message for him to come round as soon as he got home.”
Mr. Munns went to answer the bell.
“We’d better get her to bed as quick as possible,” said Wimsey to the landlady. “Have you got such a thing as a hot-water bottle?
Mrs. Munns departed to fetch one, and Sheila caught Wimsey’s hand.
“Can’t you get hold of that bottle? Make her give it to you. You can. You can do anything. Make her.”
“Better not,” said Wimsey. “Look suspicious. Look here, Sheila, what is the bottle?”
“My heart medicine. I missed it. It’s something to do with digitalin.”
“Oh, lord,” said Wimsey, as Robert came in.
* * *
“It’s all pretty damnable,” said Robert.
He thumped the fire gloomily; it was burning badly, the lower bars were choked with the ashes of a day and night.
“I’ve been having a talk with Frobisher,” he added. “All this talk in the Club — and the papers — naturally he couldn’t overlook it.”
“Was he decent?”
“Very decent. But of course I couldn’t explain the thing. I’m sending in my papers.”
Wimsey nodded. Colonel Frobisher could scarcely overlook an attempted fraud — not after things had been said in the papers.
“If I’d only let the old man alone. Too late now. He’d have been buried. Nobody would have asked questions.”
“I didn’t want to interfere,” said Wimsey, defending himself against the unspoken reproach.
“Oh, I know. I’m not blaming you. People… money oughtn’t to depend on people’s deaths… old people, with no use for their lives… it’s a devil of a temptation. Look here, Wimsey, what are we to do about this woman?”
“The Munns female?”
“Yes. It’s the devil and all she should have got hold of the stuff. If they find out what it’s supposed to be, we shall be blackmailed for the rest of our lives.”
“No,” said Wimsey, “I’m sorry, old man, but the police have got to know about it.”
Robert sprang to his feet.
“My God! — you wouldn’t—”
“Sit down, Fentiman. Yes, I must. Don’t you see I must? We can’t suppress things. It always means trouble. It’s not even as though they hadn’t got their eye on us already. They’re suspicious—”
“Yes, and why?” burst out Robert, violently. “Who put it into their heads?… For God’s sake don’t start talking about law and justice. Law and justice! You’d sell your best friend for the sake of making a sensational appearance in the witness-box, you infernal little police spy!”
“Chuck that, Fentiman!”
“I’ll not chuck it! You’d go and give away a man to the police — when you know perfectly well he isn’t responsible — just because you can’t afford to be mixed up in anything unpleasant. I know you. Nothing’s too dirty for you to meddle in, provided you can pose as the pious little friend of justice. You make me sick!”
“I tried to keep out of this—”
“You tried! — don’t be a blasted hypocrite! You get out of it now, and stay out — do you hear?”
“Yes, but listen a moment—”
“Get out!” said Robert.
Wimsey stood up.
“I know how you feel, Fentiman—”
“Don’t stand there being righteous and forbearing, you sickening prig. For the last time — are you going to shut up, or are you going to trot round to your policeman friend and earn the thanks of a grateful country for splitting on George? Get on! Which is it to be?”
“You won’t do George any good—”
“Never mind that. Are you going to hold your tongue?”
“Be reasonable, Fentiman.”
“Reasonable be damned. Are you going to the police? No shuffling. Yes or no?”
“Yes.”
“You dirty little squirt,” said Robert, striking out passionately. Wimsey’s return blow caught him neatly on the chin and landed him in the wastepaper basket.
“And now, look here,” said Wimsey, standing over him, hat and stick in hand. “It’s no odds to me what you do or say. You think your brother murdered your grandfather. I don’t know whether he did or not. But the worst thing you can do for him is to try and destroy evidence: And the worst thing you can possibly do for his wife is to make her a party to anything of the sort. And next time you try to smash anybody’s face in, remember to cover up your chin. That’s all. I can let myself out. Good-bye.”