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    Clouds of Witness
    Clouds of Witness
    Clouds of Witness
    Ebook365 pages5 hours

    Clouds of Witness

    By Dorothy L. Sayers

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    About this ebook

    Lord Peter Wimsey is shocked by the news that his own brother has been arrested for murder: “First-rate” (Chicago Sun-Times).

    After three months in Corsica, Lord Peter Wimsey has begun to forget that the gray, dangerous moors of England ever existed. But traveling through Paris, he receives a shock that jolts him back to reality. He sees it in the headlines splashed across every English paper—his brother Gerald has been arrested for murder.
     
    The trouble began at the family estate in Yorkshire, where Gerald was hunting with the man soon to be his brother-in-law, Captain Denis Cathcart. One night, Gerald confronts Cathcart with allegations about his unsavory past, leading the captain to call off the wedding. Just a few hours later, Cathcart is dead, with Gerald presumed to be the only person who could have fired the fatal shot. The clock is ticking, and only England’s premier sleuth can get to the bottom of this murky mystery.
     
    Clouds of Witness is the 2nd book in the Lord Peter Wimsey Mysteries, but you may enjoy the series by reading the books in any order.
     
    This ebook features an illustrated biography of Dorothy L. Sayers including rare images from the Marion E. Wade Center at Wheaton College.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherOpen Road Media
    Release dateJul 31, 2012
    ISBN9781453258859
    Author

    Dorothy L. Sayers

    Simon Winchester is the acclaimed author of many books, including The Professor and the Madman, The Men Who United the States, The Map That Changed the World, The Man Who Loved China, A Crack in the Edge of the World, and Krakatoa, all of which were New York Times bestsellers and appeared on numerous best and notable lists. In 2006, Winchester was made an officer of the Order of the British Empire (OBE) by Her Majesty the Queen. He resides in western Massachusetts.

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    Reviews for Clouds of Witness

    4/5

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    • 4/5
      The second in Sayers' Lord Peter Wimsey series. He's still clever, yet Woosterish at times, and he comes to the wrong conclusion more than once before hitting on the solution. To begin, Lord Peter's future brother-in-law is found dead of a gunshot wound to the chest on the family premises; Peter's brother, the Duke, is suspected and arrested, but will say nothing in his own defense. Their sister, the dead man's fiance, begins acting very strangely, shuts herself in her room, and refuses all attentions. There is evidence at the scene that another person, identity unknown, was present on the night in question. Theoretically, this being a Golden Age mystery and Sayers being very particular about the fairness doctrine, the reader should be able to pick up all the necessary clues to solve the case. I quibble. When Lord Peter takes off for Paris, and then for America, to follow up his brainstorm (which is NOT totally shared with the reader), I could certainly see how he came to his deduction, but I could not make the deduction myself. Maybe I just need more practice. I enjoyed this one very much up to a point, and then I got a bit impatient for the reveal. I think there was one too many red herrings in the pot.
    • 3/5
      I'd read some of Sayers' lit. crit, but this was my first of her mysteries. I just felt it was too easy to see where this was going. The one really effective red herring falls apart half way through and then it's just a gradual unravel. I wasn't even convinced that the resolution was clearly inevitable from the clues provided. At one point there is a physical implausibility that seems to be sheer carelessness by the author. I'll read more by Sayers and hope they are better.
    • 3/5
      I continue to stumble my way through Golden Age mysteries in an attempt to understand what so many other readers enjoy in them. So far, my only real success has been with Gladys Mitchell's Mrs. Bradley, but I am determined to emerge triumphant with Dorothy L. Sayers' Lord Peter Wimsey. I have to admit that it's been a bit of a hard slog. Perhaps I should just jump ahead to the book in which Harriet Vane makes her appearance?The largest part of Lord Peter's investigation in Clouds of Witness seemed to be crawling around on the floor staring at the carpet, and I was about ready to admit defeat when Wimsey's sister finally decided to tell the truth. Then the mystery really began to get somewhere. I am glad that I soldiered on to the end because I do see glimmers of what this series will be in snippets of conversation between characters, and that "lost in the fog in the bog" scene is marvelous. I do enjoy historical mysteries, but I am most definitely a 21st-century reader, so I do sometimes doubt the wisdom behind my dabbling into these fabled waters... but it is for the very reason that these mysteries are fabled that I can't leave them alone!
    • 3/5
      A true comfort read--or rather, re-read.
    • 4/5
      Lord Peter Wimsey sets about to clear his brother's name, the Duke of Denver when he is accused of murdering his future brother-in-law. A bit easier to follow than Whose Body?
    • 4/5
      The second Lord Peter Wimsey book. Lord Peter returns from Corsica to find his brother, the Duke of Denver, charged with the murder of his sister's fiance. There are numerous sub plots and the denouement, the trial of the Duke in the House of Lords (his peers) gets a little bogged down in procedure and legal argument. However, though not the best Dorothy Sayers outing, it's still a very enjoyable read and gives more insight into Peter's family background.
    • 5/5
      Sayers brings real comedy, history, and her Oxford training in languages to her inevitable detective stories. Dickensian names: Lord Peter Wimsey, lawyer Sir Impey Biggs (a handsome, big imp), opposing attorney general Lord Wigmore (in full wig). Mr Murbles, the senior lawyer, says " ‘Brilliant man, Sir Impey. He is defending Truth.’ Lord Peter, ‘Astonishin’ position for a lawyer, what?’ Mr Murbles acknowledged the pleasantry…’”(164).First heard this book aloud decades ago, by my wife, so I had not grasped all the wit, though I knew the plot was multiple, at least three affairs with three different couples all converging to one crime, of which the detective’s older brother, the Duke of Denver, stands accused. The Duke reserves his alibi which would compromise a married woman—perfect gentlemanly act which increases the difficulties of his defenders, including his detective brother (whose interests the Duke disapproves—incunabula and crime rather than football). Sayers gives us an intricate plot, with its culmination a long letter in French written by the victim the day of his murder. Lord Peter Wimsey has to go to the US by steamship to find it, and when he does, he flies back in a 1920’s plane, flimsy, the famous pilot’s jacket covered in rain. Flying through ravaging storm and fog, Wimsey’s arrival in doubt, his butler Bunter resolves to set a fire in his bedroom, hopeful.From our yearly visits to England, but perhaps more from watching TV mysteries like Midsommer and Father Brown, we have personal experience of much in this novel. Further, I have a coat that my British-resident friend asked if a Burberry. No, a wax-coated LL Bean, but… We “musn’t rest upon our oars” takes me back to college freshman crew on the Connecticut River (169). Also, my wife and I have had one cup of hot chocolate, with a jigger of brandy, every evening for over a decade. Our preferred brandy is Portuguese, not the priceless 1800 Napoleon served in Lord Peter’s house near Piccadilly.Many characters here are witty, including butler Bunter’s mother, who says, “facts are like cows. You look them in the face hard enough, they generally run away”(79). Lord Peter later informs his butler, “Well-bred English people never have imagination, Bunter.” “Certainly not, my lord. I meant nothing disparaging.”(175)Scotland Yard, headed by a Scot, and a crossword solution in Scottish, never spelled out for me. Broad Yorkshire dialect as well, as in the Yorkshire “national” anthem, “On Ilkley Moor Bat’ at,” quoted in, “Then doocks will coom an’ ate pop worms/ On Ilkla Moor…” (196).Be prepared for many un-American, British words: “widdershins” “gaiters”, and words like “loofah” which I had to search, evidently an organic sponge grown from a gourd—even in California.The real title should be “Cloud of Witnesses,” which appears late in the novel (258), but Sayers must have preferred the sound of both -s endings.Sayers considered her Divina Commedia translation to be her best work, in Dante's prosody,hendecasyllabic terza rima.
    • 4/5
      A vacationing Lord Peter Wimsey races to join his family at Riddlesdale Lodge in Yorkshire as soon as he learns of a family crisis. Wimsey’s elder brother, Gerald, the Duke of Denver, stands accused of the murder of their sister Mary’s fiance. Both Gerald and Mary appear to be hiding something. Wimsey’s friend, Detective-Inspector Charles Parker, is on the case and he looks forward to Wimsey’s assistance. With the aid of Wimsey’s man, Bunter, Parker and Wimsey race against the looming trial deadline to uncover the truth of what happened on that fateful night.The best parts of the book are in Wimsey’s voice, which sparkles with wit. However, the book loses momentum in long information dumps. I look forward to seeing more of Wimsey’s mother, the dowager duchess. If Sayers were writing today instead of nearly 100 years ago, the dowager duchess might have been the detective instead of her son.
    • 4/5
      Members of Lord Peter Wimsey's family become suspect when a dead body is found at a hunting lodge in Yorkshire, and a charge of murder is quickly brought against Peter's brother, the Duke of Denver. Lots of humor and an intriguing mystery all in one book. Recommended.
    • 5/5
      2020 reread via audiobook narrated by Ian Carmichael:I can understand why this 2nd Lord Peter Wimsey book isn't a 5* for others - my love for it stems partly from the fact that this is the book that introduced me to Lord Peter and Sayers. Even without that sentimental reason, there are several aspects of this book which appeal to me - the involvement of Lord Peter's family, the brief look at English socialism/communism in the 1920s, the excitement of the Lord Peter's near escape from death in a bog, etc.Ian Carmichael gives a great narration.
    • 5/5
      In this episode, Peter and Bunter rush home from Corsica when they receive news the Peter's elder brother the Duke of Denver has been arrested for the murder of Peter's sister Mary's fiance Denis Cathcart.Peter finds the situation very complicated. The duke has no alibi for the time of the murder that he is willing to share. His sister Mary is lying about something. And there are mysterious footprints around the scene of the crime that don't belong to any of the people staying at the house when the murder was committed. Peter, Bunter, and Peter's friend Parker need to find out the truth about Denis Cathcart's death before the duke can be tried in front of a jury of his peers. As the busily try to track down the owner of the mysterious footprints, unravel Mary's series of lies, and investigate Cathcart's path they discover a number of secrets that all of them hold. The story was fast-paced and filled with interesting characters. I am becoming a huge fan of Bunter who manages to save Peter's life in this one. I'm also curious to know if Parker's relationship with Lady Mary has any sort of future. Peter, as always, is an entertaining and intriguing character.
    • 3/5
      I was thinking I'd give this book 5 stars. It's much less confusing than many of Sayers' other novels: not a lot of poorly differentiated characters to keep track of, not ridiculously complicated timetables to have to absorb.But I ended up finding the ending just too disturbing. In America, a lawyer can get in big trouble for knowingly allowing his client to perjure himself on the witness stand. Apparently, however, it's just fine to do that in England. Arthur Schlesinger, who in defense of President Clinton testified that "Gentleman always lie about their sex lives", would be proud.
    • 4/5
      Wimsey is set to save his brother accused of murder. A series of coincidences - and bad behaviour - intermingle as the accused refuses to speak up. Sayers is witty and fun; she also has a real knack for accents. Her characters are lively and the plot is entertaining.A lovely read to relax
    • 4/5
      Clouds of Witness is wonderful. I was in the mood for a lovely mystery. This one seemed to fit the bill perfectly.

      I've decided to read these in order they appear on Goodreads. I liked Lord Peter Wimsey in Whose Body? and I loved him here. Not much has changed in this book. His quirks work so well in his world.

      In Clouds of Witness he is trying to save his brother (the Duke) who has been accused of murder. From their estate to Paris and back, from England to somewhere very far away, through the dangers of the moor and strange situations involving unexpectedly violent farmers, the Duke's side has their hands full. Lord Peter Wimsey, Bunter and Parker tirelessly work to find what exactly happened that night. The resolution is perfect.
      I found Peter's sister annoying as hell, but I guess certain things can be forgiven under the circumstances.

      Beside Lord Peter Wimsey, Bunter and Parker, one of my favourite characters ever is the Dowager Duchess.'My dear child, you can give it a long name if you like, but I'm an old-fashioned woman and I call it mother-wit, and it's so rare for a man to have it that if he does you write a book about him and call him Sherlock Holmes.' I'll avoid quoting half of the book, but its greatest strength is the humour. Some of it is profound, some ordinary, but it is never dull.
    • 4/5
      Red herring after red herring, and I have to admit that I wasn't really 100% convinced that the Duke didn't do it in the end, for all of Sir Impy Biggs' impressive summing up.
    • 5/5
      The plot is absurdly complicated, amusingly so. There are no end of intrigues in the country house where the murder takes place.

      But that's not the joy of reading a Sayers' novel: the pleasure is all in the humor. Wimsey acting a fool, Bunter's magical ability to produce anything needed, Mary's good heart, and the Dowager's formidable control of everything. It's Downton Abbey written by Oscar Wilde.

      Personal copy
    • 5/5
      I'd forgotten how much fun this was.
    • 3/5
      Clouds of Witness opens with Lord Peter returning from a vacation in Corsica, on the advice of Sir Julian Freke in the wake of the "Battersea Mystery" (ie, the events in Whose Body?). His leisurely stopover in Paris turns into a rush home because his brother, the Duke of Denver has been arrested for the murder of Captain Denis Cathcart, who was engaged to their younger sister, Lady Mary Wimsey. The three of them, along with some additional guests (2 couples and Freddy Arbuthnot, a frequent supporting character) were staying at Riddlesdale Lodge in Yorkshire, supposedly for a hunting holiday. This is the closest view we get of Lord Peter’s family, and the book where Charles and Mary meet. The events leading up to the death of Captain Cathcart are a collision course of hidden agendas on the parts of Gerald, Duke of Denver, Captain Cathcart, and Lady Mary. Both Gerald and Mary have something to hide, leading to confusion, suspicion, perjury, stonewalling, and false confession, not to mention misunderstandings, mistaken assumptions, and misperceptions of the various bystander witnesses. Lord Peter and Charles must go to great lengths to follow the case: the wild moors of Yorkshire, Captain Cathcart’s apartment in Paris, the Soviet Club in London. Mr Murbles and Sir Impey Biggs are both frustrated with the lack of cooperation by their ducal client. The case goes all the way to trial in the House of Lords, with all of the archaic pageantry and tabloid headlines. It’s played for maximum melodrama, including a secret witness and an eleventh hour overseas flight in a two-seater airplane during a thunderstorm to secure the critical evidence and the courtroom denouement.
    • 4/5
      Clouds of Witness, the second Lord Peter Wimsey mystery, brings the action close to home for the amateur detective. Peter’s elder brother Gerald, the Duke of Denver, has been indicted for the murder of Denis Cathcart, who had been engaged to Peter’s and Gerald’s younger sister, Lady Mary. And that young woman isn’t telling everything she knows, not by a long shot. Nor is Gerald, for that matter. Even the dead man has his secrets.Mysterious accomplices, ducal discretion, a brush with death in the peat bog, a final solution discovered by the most coincidental (providential?) means — this is a Dorothy Sayers mystery and the characters all play up to their roles. Peter is, as always, the witty and disarming peer whom everyone underestimates. Parker is his faithful sidekick, willing to take on the drudge work but also quite a keen thinker himself. And don’t forget the efficient Bunter, whose resemblance to Jeeves grows more and more pronounced every time I meet him.I’m reading the series hopelessly out of order, and it is fun to see the early developments of later events (like in this book, the beginning of Parker’s admiration of Lady Mary). Interesting too is Lord Peter’s own development; his look of benign idiocy isn’t quite perfected yet in this early story. But the Lord Peter/Parker partnership is well in hand, and the Dowager Duchess’s brief appearances confirm her as one of the more delightful minor characters ever penned.Though this was an entertaining and well-written mystery, I didn’t find it quite up to the best of the Lord Peter stories. But Sayers’s average effort is another author’s masterpiece, and there are few detectives I enjoy more than the intelligent and charming Lord Peter Wimsey. Recommended.
    • 5/5
      This is probably my second favorite of the Wimsey novels, after Murder Must Advertise, particularly for the trial before the House of Lords --a tradition now ended by later legal reform.
    • 4/5
      Lord Peter Wimsey's older brother has just been arrested for murdering his sister's fiancee, whose body was found in the family ancestral home. Lord Peter shows up to find that his brother isn't cooperating with the police and his sister's version of the night doesn't hold up under scrutiny. With little help from his family, Lord Peter, manservant Bunter and police friend Parker have to piece together the dead man's past and childish Lady Mary's movements on the night he died.This is my second Lord Peter book, the first being Lord Peter Views the Body a few years ago. It's interesting and often funny, and the clues and red herrings abound. I know there was a time when the upper class English thought it hip to drop their "g"s to sound like hillbillies, I guess, but Lord Peter can barely get a complete word out, and it's kind of annoying to read a sentences filled with apostrophes. But a good mystery that went on slightly too long.
    • 5/5
      Clouds Of Witness (1927) (Wimsey #2) by Dorothy L. Sayers. The Duke of Denver has been caught up as the chief suspect in the murder of his sister’s soon to be husband. The Duke happens to be Lord Peter’s brother so Wimsey hurries home from the Continent to assist in the investigation. It at first appears that the Duke must be guilty as he has been accused of the crime by his own sister. The scene was 3 A.M. and the body was outside the conservatory. The Duke was kneeling over the man when Lady Mary came across them and stated that the Duke had killed her soon to be husband.You know that isn’t the whole tale. Slowly the stories of the other house guests come out, contradictions about the time of the shot being heard rise up, and even far a right-wing political agitators enters the scene. There is a mysterious motorcyclist roaming the countryside and a very nasty farmer and his too beautiful wife who become part of the problem.Whimsy and Parker turn over the information as it comes to them and try to decide what is true testimony and what is just smoke.A nice little country estate novel that is fascinating and well thought. As usual, Ms. Sayers plays fair with the reader. You might guess the whys and wherefores along the way, but this is a delight to read.
    • 4/5
      A re-read, probably several times over. In this, Peter is called upon to investigate another murder, although this one involves his brother as suspect. The body of Lady Mary's fiance is found in the conservatory of the shooting lodge, with the duke bending over him, Mary leaps to the obvious (and wrong) conclusion, that Gerald did it. From there, it all goes downhill fast for Gerald, who refuses to say what he was doing. It all falls on Peter and Charles Parker to unravel the various mysteries that have enmeshed themselves around the 3 am discovery. Some fabulous side characters in this, although the level of co-incidence is markedly high. Peter discovers who did what and how, as usual, but it's a close run thing.
    • 4/5
      Much better than Sayers' previous and first detective novel, "Whose Body". Her cleverness with different means of narrative, for example the many transcript-like depictions of inquests and trials, is evident. In humour, Sayers far outdid her two "rivals", Marsh and Christie. Whimsey is less irritating than previously, although his doggerel at the end of the trial is still pretty tough to get through.Ian Carmichael's narration was excellent. I would enjoy the novel less without the Yorkshire accents.
    • 4/5
      The second in the series, with a much better paced plot and clues. Lord Peter's brother, Gerald, is charged with the murder of Denis Cathcart, who is engaged to marry Lady Mary, sister to Gerald and Peter. Gerald and Mary appear to have discovered the body at the same moment in the middle of the night, but each seems to have something to hide which prevents them from telling the truth. More of a detective story, with less humour and sadly less of Bunter than the first, but a satisfactory ending.
    • 4/5
      Another highly entertaining Wimsey mystery. Just the ticket after a(nother) crazy week in 2020 ... While I've read a few of the Wimsey tales out of order, I've now started to try and read them in order so I can get a better sense of the character development.
    • 4/5
      Another great one. Beautiful language!
    • 2/5
      This one started out so promisingly but ended up being a hot mess.Lord Peter's brother, the Duke of Denver, has been arrested, charged with the murder of his prospective brother in law, Captain Denis Cathcart. Denver found the body outside his lodgings at 3 am, but steadfastly refuses to give any reason why he himself is out so late at night, and why his weapon was used to fire the fatal shot. Of course, the arrest and trial of a peer of the realm is Big News, and though Peter has never been especially close to his elder brother, he does take it upon himself to investigate the matter with his BFF Charles Parker and his handy valet Bunter.Basically, everyone in this story is a complete idiot, up to and including the entire Wimsey family, save the Dowager Duchess. (Even Peter himself acts like a twat in the bizarre final scene of the novel.) Because of their stupidity and obstinacy, a very simple situation spiraled out of control. To make matters worse, we are given cruelly minute detail of every scrap of evidence during the trial near the end of the book, even though its already obvious that Denver didn't commit the crime. This was such a long, boring, and completely useless couple of chapters. And then there's the end, where Peter & co are drunken idiots in the middle of London. What was the point of that, exactly??This is a terrible follow-up to the amusing Whose Body?. I think you can definitely give it a miss and nothing of value will be lost.
    • 4/5
      Lord Peter Wimsey’s brother Gerald is arrested and accused of the murder of his sisters boyfriend. Wimsey hurries home from his vacation on Corsica and goes to work - with his “partner”, detective Palmer and his manservant Bunter. Mary, Peter’s sister, is also under suspicion as her story doesn’t hold water - a lot is at stake here for Peter - and there’s more action in this one - Wimsey is shot at (twice), are in severe danger in a swamp and have to endure a lot before the case is closed.
    • 5/5
      I love Lord Peter Wimsey, he has an incredible sense of wrong and right, of honor and love of family. He finds that his brother has been accused of murder and jailed. Lord Peter drops everything and rushes to investigate. His brother refuses to talk,so he does it his way. This is a true British mystery which I love.***I received this book in exchange for an honest review***

    Book preview

    Clouds of Witness - Dorothy L. Sayers

    CHAPTER I

    Of His Malice Aforethought

    O, who hath done this deed?

    —Othello

    LORD PETER WIMSEY STRETCHED himself luxuriously between the sheets provided by the Hôtel Meurice. After his exertions in the unravelling of the Battersea Mystery, he had followed Sir Julian Freke’s advice and taken a holiday. He had felt suddenly weary of breakfasting every morning before his view over the Green Park; he had realised that the picking up of first editions at sales afforded insufficient exercise for a man of thirty-three; the very crimes of London were over-sophisticated. He had abandoned his flat and his friends and fled to the wilds of Corsica. For the last three months he had forsworn letters, newspapers, and telegrams. He had tramped about the mountains, admiring from a cautious distance the wild beauty of Corsican peasant-women, and studying the vendetta in its natural haunt. In such conditions murder seemed not only reasonable, but lovable. Bunter, his confidential man and assistant sleuth, had nobly sacrificed his civilised habits, had let his master go dirty and even unshaven, and had turned his faithful camera from the recording of finger-prints to that of craggy scenery. It had been very refreshing.

    Now, however, the call of the blood was upon Lord Peter. They had returned late last night in a vile train to Paris, and had picked up their luggage. The autumn light, filtering through the curtains, touched caressingly the silver-topped bottles on the dressing-table, outlined an electric lampshade and the shape of the telephone. A noise of running water near by proclaimed that Bunter had turned on the bath (h. & c.) and was laying out scented soap, bath-salts, the huge bath-sponge, for which there had been no scope in Corsica, and the delightful flesh-brush with the long handle, which rasped you so agreeably all down the spine. Contrast, philosophised Lord Peter sleepily, is life. Corsica—Paris—then London … Good morning, Bunter.

    Good morning, my lord. Fine morning, my lord. Your lordship’s bath-water is ready.

    Thanks, said Lord Peter. He blinked at the sunlight.

    It was a glorious bath. He wondered, as he soaked in it, how he could have existed in Corsica. He wallowed happily and sang a few bars of a song. In a soporific interval he heard the valet de chambre bringing in coffee and rolls. Coffee and rolls! He heaved himself out with a splash, towelled himself luxuriously, enveloped his long-mortified body in a silken bathrobe, and wandered back.

    To his immense surprise he perceived Mr. Bunter calmly replacing all the fittings in his dressing-case. Another astonished glance showed him the bags—scarcely opened the previous night—repacked, relabelled, and standing ready for a journey.

    I say, Bunter, what’s up? said his lordship. We’re stayin’ here a fortnight y’know.

    Excuse me, my lord, said Mr. Bunter, deferentially, "but, having seen The Times (delivered here every morning by air, my lord; and very expeditious I’m sure, all things considered), I made no doubt your lordship would be wishing to go to Riddlesdale at once."

    Riddlesdale! exclaimed Peter. What’s the matter? Anything wrong with my brother?

    For answer Mr. Bunter handed him the paper, folded open at the heading:

    RIDDLESDALE INQUEST.

    DUKE OF DENVER ARRESTED

    ON MURDER CHARGE.

    Lord Peter stared as if hypnotised.

    I thought your lordship wouldn’t wish to miss anything, said Mr. Bunter, so I took the liberty—

    Lord Peter pulled himself together.

    When’s the next train? he asked.

    "I beg your lordship’s pardon—I thought your lordship would wish to take the quickest route. I took it on myself to book two seats in the aeroplane Victoria. She starts at 11:30."

    Lord Peter looked at his watch.

    Ten o’clock, he said. Very well. You did quite right. Dear me! Poor old Gerald arrested for murder. Uncommonly worryin’ for him, poor chap. Always hated my bein’ mixed up with police-courts. Now he’s there himself. Lord Peter Wimsey in the witness-box—very distressin’ to feelin’s of a brother. Duke of Denver in the dock—worse still. Dear me! Well, I suppose one must have breakfast.

    Yes, my lord. Full account of the inquest in the paper, my lord.

    Yes. Who’s on the case, by the way?

    Mr. Parker, my lord.

    Parker? That’s good. Splendid old Parker! Wonder how he managed to get put on to it. How do things look, Bunter?

    If I may say so, my lord, I fancy the investigations will prove very interesting. There are several extremely suggestive points in the evidence, my lord.

    From a criminological point of view I daresay it is interesting, replied his lordship, sitting down cheerfully to his café au lait, but it’s deuced awkward for my brother, all the same, havin’ no turn for criminology, what?

    Ah, well! said Mr. Bunter, they say, my lord, there’s nothing like having a personal interest.

    The inquest was held to-day at Riddlesdale, in the North Riding of Yorkshire, on the body of Captain Denis Cathcart, which was found at three o’clock on Thursday morning lying just outside the conservatory door of the Duke of Denver’s shooting-box, Riddlesdale Lodge. Evidence was given to show that deceased had quarrelled with the Duke of Denver on the preceding evening, and was subsequently shot in a small thicket adjoining the house. A pistol belonging to the Duke was found near the scene of the crime. A verdict of murder was returned against the Duke of Denver. Lady Mary Wimsey, sister of the Duke, who was engaged to be married to the deceased, collapsed after giving evidence, and is now lying seriously ill at the Lodge. The Duchess of Denver hastened from town yesterday and was present at the inquest. Full report on p. 12.

    Poor old Gerald! thought Lord Peter, as he turned to page 12; and poor old Mary! I wonder if she really was fond of the fellow. Mother always said not, but Mary never would let on about herself.

    The full report began by describing the little village of Riddlesdale, where the Duke of Denver had recently taken a small shooting-box for the season. When the tragedy occurred the Duke had been staying there with a party of guests. In the Duchess’s absence Lady Mary Wimsey had acted as hostess. The other guests were Colonel and Mrs. Marchbanks, the Hon. Frederick Arbuthnot, Mr. and Mrs. Pettigrew-Robinson, and the dead man, Denis Cathcart.

    The first witness was the Duke of Denver, who claimed to have discovered the body. He gave evidence that he was coming into the house by the conservatory door at three o’clock in the morning of Thursday, October 14th, when his foot struck against something. He had switched on his electric torch and seen the body of Denis Cathcart at his feet. He had at once turned it over, and seen that Cathcart had been shot in the chest. He was quite dead. As Denver was bending over the body, he heard a cry in the conservatory, and, looking up, saw Lady Mary Wimsey gazing out horror-struck. She came out by the conservatory door, and exclaimed at once, O God, Gerald, you’ve killed him! (Sensation.)¹

    The Coroner: Were you surprised by that remark?

    Duke of D.: Well, I was so shocked and surprised at the whole thing. I think I said to her, ‘Don’t look,’ and she said, ‘Oh, it’s Denis! Whatever can have happened? Has there been an accident?’ I stayed with the body, and sent her up to rouse the house.

    The Coroner: Did you expect to see Lady Mary Wimsey in the conservatory?

    Duke of D.: Really, as I say, I was so astonished all round, don’t you know, I didn’t think about it.

    The Coroner: Do you remember how she was dressed?

    Duke of D.: I don’t think she was in her pyjamas. (Laughter.) I think she had a coat on.

    The Coroner: I understand that Lady Mary Wimsey was engaged to be married to the deceased?

    Duke of D.: Yes.

    The Coroner: He was well known to you?

    Duke of D.: He was the son of an old friend of my father’s; his parents are dead. I believe he lived chiefly abroad. I ran across him during the war, and in 1919 he came to stay at Denver. He became engaged to my sister at the beginning of this year.

    The Coroner: With your consent, and with that of the family?

    Duke of D.: Oh, yes, certainly.

    The Coroner: What kind of man was Captain Cathcart?

    Duke of D. : Well—he was a Sahib and all that. I don’t know what he did before he joined in 1914. I think he lived on his income; his father was well off. Crack shot, good at games, and so on. I never heard anything against him—till that evening.

    The Coroner: What was that?

    Duke of D.: Well—the fact is—it was deuced queer. He—If anybody but Tommy Freeborn had said it I should never have believed it. (Sensation.)

    The Coroner: I’m afraid I must ask your grace of what exactly you had to accuse the deceased.

    Duke of D. : Well, I didn’t—I don’t—exactly accuse him. An old friend of mine made a suggestion. Of course I thought it must be all a mistake, so I went to Cathcart, and, to my amazement, he practically admitted it! Then we both got angry, and he told me to go to the devil, and rushed out of the house. (Renewed sensation.)

    The Coroner: When did this quarrel occur?

    Duke of D.: On Wednesday night. That was the last I saw of him. (Unparalleled sensation.)

    The Coroner: Please, please, we cannot have this disturbance. Now, will your grace kindly give me, as far as you can remember it, the exact history of this quarrel?

    Duke of D.: Well, it was like this. We’d had a long day on the moors and had dinner early, and about half-past nine we began to feel like turning in. My sister and Mrs. Pettigrew-Robinson toddled on up, and we were havin’ a last peg in the billiard-room when Fleming—that’s my man—came in with the letters. They come rather any old time in the evening, you know, we being two and a half miles from the village. No—I wasn’t in the billiard-room at the time—I was lockin’ up the gun-room. The letter was from an old friend of mine I hadn’t seen for years—Tom Freeborn—used to know him at the House—

    The Coroner: Whose house?

    Duke of D.: Oh, Christ Church, Oxford. He wrote to say he’d seen the announcement of my sister’s engagement in Egypt.

    The Coroner: In Egypt?

    Duke of D.: "I mean, he was in Egypt—Tom Freeborn, you see—that’s why he hadn’t written before. He engineers. He went out there after the war was over, you see, and, bein’ somewhere up near the sources of the Nile, he doesn’t get the papers regularly. He said, would I ’scuse him for interferin’ in a very delicate matter, and all that, but did I know who Cathcart was? Said he’d met him in Paris during the war, and he lived by cheatin’ at cards—said he could swear to it, with details of a row there’d been in some French place or other. Said he knew I’d want to chaw his head off—Freeborn’s, I mean—for buttin’ in, but he’d seen the man’s photo in the paper, an’ he thought I ought to know."

    The Coroner: Did this letter surprise you?

    Duke of D.: Couldn’t believe it at first. If it hadn’t been old Tom Freeborn I’d have put the thing in the fire straight off, and, even as it was, I didn’t quite know what to think. I mean, it wasn’t as if it had happened in England, you know. I mean to say, Frenchmen get so excited about nothing. Only there was Freeborn, and he isn’t the kind of man that makes mistakes.

    The Coroner: What did you do?

    Duke of D.: "Well, the more I looked at it the less I liked it, you know. Still, I couldn’t quite leave it like that, so I thought the best way was to go straight to Cathcart. They’d all gone up while I was sittin’ thinkin’ about it, so I went up and knocked at Cathcart’s door. He said, ‘What’s that?’ or ‘Who the devil’s that?’ or somethin’ of the sort, and I went in. ‘Look here,’ I said, ‘can I just have a word with you?’ ‘Well, cut it short, then,’ he said. I was surprised—he wasn’t usually rude. ‘Well,’ I said, ‘fact is, I’ve had a letter I don’t much like the look of, and I thought the best thing to do was to bring it straight away to you an’ have the whole thing cleared up. It’s from a man—a very decent sort—old college friend, who says he’s met you in Paris.’ ‘Paris!’ he said, in a most uncommonly unpleasant way. ‘Paris! What the hell do you want to come talkin’ to me about Paris for?’ ‘Well,’ I said, ‘don’t talk like that, because it’s misleadin’ under the circumstances.’ ‘What are you drivin’ at?’ says Cathcart. ‘Spit it out and go to bed, for God’s sake.’ I said, ‘Right oh! I will. It’s a man called Freeborn, who says he knew you in Paris and that you made money cheatin’ at cards.’ I thought he’d break out at that, but all he said was, ‘What about it?’ ‘What about it?’ I said. ‘Well, of course, it’s not the sort of thing I’m goin’ to believe like that, right bang-slap off, without any proofs.’ Then he said a funny thing. He said, ‘Beliefs don’t matter—it’s what one knows about people.’ ‘Do you mean to say you don’t deny it?’ I said. ‘It’s no good my denying it,’ he said; ‘you must make up your own mind. Nobody could disprove it.’ And then he suddenly jumped up, nearly knocking the table over, and said, ‘I don’t care what you think or what you do, if you’ll only get out. For God’s sake leave me alone!’ ‘Look here,’ I said, ‘you needn’t take it that way. I don’t say I do believe it—in fact,’ I said, ‘I’m sure there must be some mistake; only, you bein’ engaged to Mary,’ I said, ‘I couldn’t just let it go at that without looking into it, could I?’ ‘Oh!’ says Cathcart, ‘if that’s what’s worrying you, it needn’t. That’s off.’ I said, ‘What?’ He said, ‘Our engagement.’ ‘Off?’ I said. ‘But I was talking to Mary about it only yesterday.’ ‘I haven’t told her yet,’ he said. ‘Well,’ I said, ‘I think that’s damned cool. Who the hell do you think you are, to come here and jilt my sister?’ Well, I said quite a lot, first and last. ‘You can get out,’ I said; ‘I’ve no use for swine like you.’ ‘I will,’ he said, and he pushed past me an’ slammed downstairs and out of the front door, an’ banged it after him."

    The Coroner: What did you do?

    Duke of D.: I ran into my bedroom, which has a window over the conservatory, and shouted to him not to be a silly fool. It was pourin’ with rain and beastly cold. He didn’t come back, so I told Fleming to leave the conservatory door open—in case he thought better of it—and went to bed.

    The Coroner: What explanation can you suggest for Cathcart’s behaviour?

    Duke of D.: None. I was simply staggered. But I think he must somehow have got wind of the letter, and knew the game was up.

    The Coroner: Did you mention the matter to anybody else?

    Duke of D.: No. It wasn’t pleasant, and I thought I’d better leave it till the morning.

    The Coroner: So you did nothing further in the matter?

    Duke of D.: No. I didn’t want to go out huntin’ for the fellow. I was too angry. Besides, I thought he’d change his mind before long—it was a brute of a night and he’d only a dinner-jacket.

    The Coroner: Then you just went quietly to bed and never saw deceased again?

    Duke of D.: Not till I fell over him outside the conservatory at three in the morning.

    The Coroner: Ah yes. Now can you tell us how you came to be out of doors at that time?

    Duke of D. (hesitating): I didn’t sleep well. I went out for a stroll.

    The Coroner: At three o’clock in the morning?

    Duke of D.: Yes. With sudden inspiration: You see, my wife’s away. (Laughter and some remarks from the back of the room.)

    The Coroner: Silence, please.… You mean to say that you got up at that hour of an October night to take a walk in the garden in the pouring rain?

    Duke of D.: Yes, just a stroll. (Laughter.)

    The Coroner: At what time did you leave your bedroom?

    Duke of D.: Oh—oh, about half-past two, I should think.

    The Coroner: Which way did you go out?

    Duke of D.: By the conservatory door.

    The Coroner: The body was not there when you went out?

    Duke of D.: Oh, no!

    The Coroner: Or you would have seen it?

    Duke of D.: Lord, yes! I’d have had to walk over it.

    The Coroner: Exactly where did you go?

    Duke of D. (vaguely): Oh, just round about.

    The Coroner: You heard no shot?

    Duke of D.: No.

    The Coroner: Did you go far away from the conservatory door and the shrubbery?

    Duke of D.: Well—I was some way away. Perhaps that’s why I didn’t hear anything. It must have been.

    The Coroner: Were you as much as a quarter of a mile away?

    Duke of D.: I should think I was—oh, yes, quite!

    The Coroner: More than a quarter of a mile away?

    Duke of D.: Possibly. I walked about briskly because it was cold.

    The Coroner: In which direction?

    Duke of D. (with visible hesitation): Round at the back of the house. Towards the bowling-green.

    The Coroner: The bowling-green?

    Duke of D. (more confidently): Yes.

    The Coroner: But if you were more than a quarter of a mile away, you must have left the grounds?

    Duke of D.: I—oh, yes—I think I did. Yes, I walked about on the moor a bit, you know.

    The Coroner: Can you show us the letter you had from Mr. Freeborn?

    Duke of D.: Oh, certainly—if I can find it. I thought I put it in my pocket, but I couldn’t find it for that Scotland Yard fellow.

    The Coroner: Can you have accidentally destroyed it?

    Duke of D.: No—I’m sure I remember putting it—Oh—here the witness paused in very patent confusion, and grew red—I remember now. I destroyed it.

    The Coroner: That is unfortunate. How was that?

    Duke of D.: I had forgotten; it has come back to me now. I’m afraid it has gone for good.

    The Coroner: Perhaps you kept the envelope?

    Witness shook his head.

    The Coroner: Then you can show the jury no proof of having received it?

    Duke of D.: Not unless Fleming remembers it.

    The Coroner: Ah, yes! No doubt we can check it that way. Thank you, your grace. Call Lady Mary Wimsey.

    The noble lady, who was, until the tragic morning of October 14th, the fiancée of the deceased, aroused a murmur of sympathy on her appearance. Fair and slender, her naturally rose-pink cheeks ashy pale, she seemed overwhelmed with grief. She was dressed entirely in black, and gave her evidence in a very low tone which was at times almost inaudible.²

    After expressing his sympathy, the coroner asked, How long had you been engaged to the deceased?

    Witness: About eight months.

    The Coroner: Where did you first meet him?

    Witness: At my sister-in-law’s house in London.

    The Coroner: When was that?

    Witness: I think it was June last year.

    The Coroner: You were quite happy in your engagement?

    Witness: Quite.

    The Coroner: You naturally saw a good deal of Captain Cathcart. Did he tell you much about his previous life?

    Witness: Not very much. We were not given to mutual confidences. We usually discussed subjects of common interest.

    The Coroner: You had many such subjects?

    Witness: Oh, yes.

    The Coroner: You never gathered at any time that Captain Cathcart had anything on his mind?

    Witness: Not particularly. He had seemed a little anxious the last few days.

    The Coroner: Did he speak of his life in Paris?

    Witness: He spoke of theatres and amusements there. He knew Paris very well. I was staying in Paris with some friends last February, when he was there, and he took us about. That was shortly after our engagement.

    The Coroner: Did he ever speak of playing cards in Paris?

    Witness: I don’t remember.

    The Coroner: With regard to your marriage—had any money settlements been gone into?

    Witness: I don’t think so. The date of the marriage was not in any way fixed.

    The Coroner: He always appeared to have plenty of money?

    Witness: I suppose so; I didn’t think about it.

    The Coroner: You never heard him complain of being hard up?

    Witness: Everybody complains of that, don’t they?

    The Coroner: Was he a man of cheerful disposition?

    Witness: He was very moody, never the same two days together.

    The Coroner: You have heard what your brother says about the deceased wishing to break off the engagement. Had you any idea of this?

    Witness: Not the slightest.

    The Coroner: Can you think of any explanation now?

    Witness: Absolutely none.

    The Coroner: There had been no quarrel?

    Witness: No.

    The Coroner: So far as you knew, on the Wednesday evening, you were still engaged to deceased with every prospect of being married to him shortly?

    Witness: Ye-es. Yes, certainly, of course.

    The Coroner: He was not—forgive me this very painful question—the sort of man who would have been likely to lay violent hands on himself?

    Witness: Oh, I never thought—well, I don’t know—I suppose he might have done. That would explain it, wouldn’t it?

    The Coroner: Now, Lady Mary—please don’t distress yourself, take your own time—will you tell us exactly what you heard and saw on Wednesday night and Thursday morning.

    Witness: I went up to bed with Mrs. Marchbanks and Mrs. Pettigrew-Robinson at about half-past nine, leaving all the men downstairs. I said good night to Denis, who seemed quite as usual. I was not downstairs when the post came. I went to my room at once. My room is at the back of the house. I heard Mr. Pettigrew-Robinson come up at about ten. The Pettigrew-Robinsons sleep next door to me. Some of the other men came up with him. I did not hear my brother come upstairs. At about a quarter past ten I heard two men talking loudly in the passage, and then I heard someone run downstairs and bang the front door. Afterwards I heard rapid steps in the passage, and finally I heard my brother shut his door. Then I went to bed.

    The Coroner: You did not inquire the cause of the disturbance?

    Witness (indifferently): I thought it was probably something about the dogs.

    The Coroner: What happened next?

    Witness: I woke up at three o’clock.

    The Coroner: What wakened you?

    Witness: I heard a shot.

    The Coroner: You were not awake before you heard it?

    Witness: I may have been partly awake. I heard it very distinctly. I was sure it was a shot. I listened for a few minutes, and then went down to see if anything was wrong.

    The Coroner: Why did you not call your brother or some other gentleman?

    Witness (scornfully): Why should I? I thought it was probably only poachers, and I didn’t want to make an unnecessary fuss at that unearthly hour.

    The Coroner: Did the shot sound close to the house?

    Witness: Fairly, I think—it is hard to tell when one is wakened by a noise—it always sounds so extra loud.

    The Coroner: It did not seem to be in the house or in the conservatory?

    Witness: No, it was outside.

    The Coroner: So you went downstairs by yourself. That was very plucky of you, Lady Mary. Did you go immediately?

    Witness: Not quite immediately. I thought it over for a few minutes; then I put on walking-shoes over bare feet, a heavy covert-coat, and a woolly cap. It may have been five minutes after hearing the shot that I left my bedroom. I went downstairs and through the billiard-room to the conservatory.

    The Coroner: Why did you go out that way?

    Witness: Because it was quicker than unbolting either the front door or the back door.

    At this point a plan of Riddlesdale Lodge was handed to the jury. It is a roomy, two-storied house, built in a plain style, and leased by the present owner, Mr. Walter Montague, to Lord Denver for the season, Mr. Montague being in the States.

    p14

    Witness (resuming): When I got to the conservatory door I saw a man outside, bending over something on the ground. When he looked up I was astonished to see my brother.

    The Coroner: Before you saw who it was, what did you expect?

    Witness: I hardly know—it all happened so quickly. I thought it was burglars, I think.

    The Coroner: His grace has told us that when you saw him you cried out, ‘O God! you’ve killed him!’ Can you tell us why you did that?

    Witness (very pale): I thought my brother must have come upon the burglar and fired at him in self-defence—that is, if I thought at all.

    The Coroner: Quite so. You knew that the Duke possessed a revolver?

    Witness: Oh, yes—I think so.

    The Coroner: What did you do next?

    Witness: My brother sent me up to get help. I knocked up Mr. Arbuthnot and Mr. and Mrs. Pettigrew-Robinson. Then I suddenly felt very faint, and went back to my bedroom and took some sal volatile.

    The Coroner: Alone?

    Witness: Yes, everybody was running about and calling out. I couldn’t bear it—I—

    Here the witness, who up till this moment had given her evidence very collectedly, though in a low voice, collapsed suddenly, and had to be assisted from the room.

    The next witness called was James Fleming, the manservant. He remembered having brought the letters from Riddlesdale at 9:45 on Wednesday evening. He had taken three or four letters to the Duke in the gun-room. He could not remember at all whether one of them had had an Egyptian stamp. He did not collect stamps; his hobby was autographs. The Hon. Frederick Arbuthnot then gave evidence. He had gone up to bed

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