“And Mama rather thinks we get this house. Let’s have a look at it”
II
At eleven o’clock Alleyn got the surgeon’s report on the post-mortem. It was accompanied by a note from Dr. Curtis. The skewer, he said, had been introduced into the left orbit and had penetrated the fissure at the back of the eye and had entered the blood vessels at the base of the brain.
That’s all the coroner or his jury need to know [wrote Dr. Curtis] but I suppose I shall have to give them a solemn mumbo jumbo as usual. They don’t think they’ve got their money’s worth without it. For your information, this expert must have groped a bit before finding the gap and played his weapon about as much as he could after it got through into the brain. Nasty mess. No doubt about it being a right-handed job. I shall say that the wound on the left temple was caused by its coming into sharp contact with the chromium steel boss on the lift wall and that he was probably unconscious when the stuff with the skewer was done, and that death was caused by injury to the brain. Hope you get him (or her). Yours, S. C.
Alleyn brooded over the report, put it aside, and rang up Mr. Rattisbon, the Lamprey’s family solicitor. Mr. Rattisbon was an old acquaintance of Alleyn’s. He said that he was just leaving to wait upon the new Lord Wutherwood but would call on Alleyn in an hour’s time. He sounded extremely bothered and fussily remote. Alleyn was heartily thankful that the Lampreys had not sent for Mr. Rattisbon last night. If any one could keep their tongues from uttering indiscretions it was surely he. “I shall get very little out of him,” Alleyn thought. “He’ll be as acid as a lime and as dry as a biscuit. He will look after the Lampreys.” And with a sigh he turned back to his report. Presently Fox came in, beaming mildly, with his white scarf folded neatly under his wet mackintosh and his umbrella and hat in his hand.
“Hullo, Br’er Fox. Enjoy your game of Happy Families this morning?”
“I got on nicely, thank you, Mr. Alleyn. I looked in at the house in Brummell Street. I didn’t see Mr. Henry Lamprey — Lord Rune, rather — or Miss Grey, but I understand they passed a quiet night. Her ladyship’s quieted down a lot too, so the nurse told me. She thinks one nurse will be enough tonight. I saw that chap Giggle, the chauffeur, and passed the time of day with him. He didn’t seem to like it.”
“Your method of ‘passing the time of day’ is sometimes a bit ominous, Foxkin. What did you say to Giggle?”
“I thought I’d have a shot at shaking his story about when he went downstairs. He got very nervous, of course, when I hammered away at it, but he stuck to it that he went down just after Lord Wutherwood called out the first time.”
“It’s the truth,” said Alleyn. “Young Michael saw him go. You won’t shake that story, Br’er Fox.”