Whose Body?, Dorothy L. Sayers [good summer reads .txt] 📗

Inspector Sugg gave evidence of having been called in at about half-past eight on Monday morning. He had considered the girl’s manner to be suspicious and had arrested her. On later information, leading him to suspect that the deceased might have been murdered that night, he had arrested Mr. Thipps. He had found no trace of breaking into the flat. There were marks on the bathroom windowsill which pointed to somebody having got in that way. There were no ladder marks or footmarks in the yard; the yard was paved with asphalt. He had examined the roof, but found nothing on the roof. In his opinion the body had been brought into the flat previously and concealed till the evening by someone who had then gone out during the night by the bathroom window, with the connivance of the girl. In that case, why should not the girl have let the person out by the door? Well, it might have been so. Had he found traces of a body or a man or both having been hidden in the flat? He found nothing to show that they might not have been so concealed. What was the evidence that led him to suppose that the death had occurred that night?

At this point Inspector Sugg appeared uneasy, and endeavoured to retire upon his professional dignity. On being pressed, however, he admitted that the evidence in question had come to nothing.

One of the jurors: Was it the case that any fingermarks had been left by the criminal?

Some marks had been found on the bath, but the criminal had worn gloves.

The Coroner: Do you draw any conclusion from this fact as to the experience of the criminal?

Inspector Sugg: Looks as if he was an old hand, sir.

The Juror: Is that very consistent with the charge against Alfred Thipps, Inspector?

The Inspector was silent.

The Coroner: In the light of the evidence which you have just heard, do you still press the charge against Alfred Thipps and Gladys Horrocks?

Inspector Sugg: I consider the whole set-out highly suspicious. Thipps’s story isn’t corroborated, and as for the girl Horrocks, how do we know this Williams ain’t in it as well?

William Williams: Now, you drop that. I can bring a ’undred witnesses⁠—

The Coroner: Silence, if you please. I am surprised, Inspector, that you should make this suggestion in that manner. It is highly improper. By the way, can you tell us whether a police raid was actually carried out on the Monday night on any Night Club in the neighbourhood of St. Giles’s Circus?

Inspector Sugg (sulkily): I believe there was something of the sort.

The Coroner: You will, no doubt, inquire into the matter. I seem to recollect having seen some mention of it in the newspapers. Thank you, Inspector, that will do.

Several witnesses having appeared and testified to the characters of Mr. Thipps and Gladys Horrocks, the Coroner stated his intention of proceeding to the medical evidence.

“Sir Julian Freke.”

There was considerable stir in the court as the great specialist walked up to give evidence. He was not only a distinguished man, but a striking figure, with his wide shoulders, upright carriage and leonine head. His manner as he kissed the Book presented to him with the usual deprecatory mumble by the Coroner’s officer, was that of a St. Paul condescending to humour the timid mumbo-jumbo of superstitious Corinthians.

“So handsome, I always think,” whispered the Duchess to Mr. Parker; “just exactly like William Morris, with that bush of hair and beard and those exciting eyes looking out of it⁠—so splendid, these dear men always devoted to something or other⁠—not but what I think socialism is a mistake⁠—of course it works with all those nice people, so good and happy in art linen and the weather always perfect⁠—Morris, I mean, you know⁠—but so difficult in real life. Science is different⁠—I’m sure if I had nerves I should go to Sir Julian just to look at him⁠—eyes like that give one something to think about, and that’s what most of these people want, only I never had any⁠—nerves, I mean. Don’t you think so?”

“You are Sir Julian Freke,” said the Coroner, “and live at St. Luke’s House, Prince of Wales Road, Battersea, where you exercise a general direction over the surgical side of St. Luke’s Hospital?”

Sir Julian assented briefly to this definition of his personality.

“You were the first medical man to see the deceased?”

“I was.”

“And you have since conducted an examination in collaboration with Dr. Grimbold of Scotland Yard?”

“I have.”

“You are in agreement as to the cause of death?”

“Generally speaking, yes.”

“Will you communicate your impressions to the Jury?”

“I was engaged in research work in the dissecting room at St. Luke’s Hospital at about nine o’clock on Monday morning, when I was informed that Inspector Sugg wished to see me. He told me that the dead body of a man had been discovered under mysterious circumstances at 59 Queen Caroline Mansions. He asked me whether it could be supposed to be a joke perpetrated by any of the medical students at the hospital. I was able to assure him, by an examination of the hospital’s books, that there was no subject missing from the dissecting room.”

“Who would be in charge of such bodies?”

“William Watts, the dissecting-room attendant.”

“Is William Watts present?” inquired the Coroner of the officer.

William Watts was present, and could be called if the Coroner thought it necessary.

“I suppose no dead body would be delivered to the hospital without your knowledge, Sir Julian?”

“Certainly not.”

“Thank you. Will you proceed with your statement?”

“Inspector Sugg then asked me whether I would send a medical man round to view the body. I said that I would go myself.”

“Why did you do that?”

“I confess to my share of ordinary human curiosity, Mr. Coroner.”

Laughter from a medical student at the back of the room.

“On arriving at the flat I found the deceased lying on his back in the bath. I examined him, and came to the conclusion that death had been caused by a blow on the back of the neck, dislocating the fourth and