Strong Poison · Chapter 4 (2/2)

“No⁠—dash it all, I seem to be saying all the wrong things today. I was absolutely stunned that first day in court, and I rushed off to my mater, who’s an absolute dear, and the kind of person who really understands things, and I said, ‘Look here! here’s the absolutely one and only woman, and she’s being put through a simply ghastly awful business and for God’s sake come and hold my hand!’ You simply don’t know how foul it was.”

“That does sound rather rotten. I’m sorry I was brutal. But, by the way, you’re bearing in mind, aren’t you, that I’ve had a lover?”

“Oh, yes. So have I, if it comes to that. In fact, several. It’s the sort of thing that might happen to anybody. I can produce quite good testimonials. I’m told I make love rather nicely⁠—only I’m at a disadvantage at the moment. One can’t be very convincing at the other end of a table with a bloke looking in at the door.”

“I will take your word for it. But, however entrancing it is to wander unchecked through a garden of bright images, are we not enticing your mind from another subject of almost equal importance? It seems probable⁠—”

“And if you can quote Kai Lung, we should certainly get on together.”

“It seems very probable that I shall not survive to make the experiment.”

“Don’t be so damned discouraging,” said Wimsey. “I have already carefully explained to you that this time I am investigating this business. Anybody would think you had no confidence in me.”

“People have been wrongly condemned before now.”

“Exactly; simply because I wasn’t there.”

“I never thought of that.”

“Think of it now. You will find it very beautiful and inspiring. It might even help to distinguish me from the other forty-six, if you should happen to mislay my features, or anything. Oh, by the way⁠—I don’t positively repel you or anything like that, do I? Because, if I do, I’ll take my name off the waiting list at once.”

“No,” said Harriet Vane, kindly and a little sadly. “No, you don’t repel me.”

“I don’t remind you of white slugs or make you go gooseflesh all over?”

“Certainly not.”

“I’m glad of that. Any minor alterations, like parting the old mane, or growing a toothbrush, or cashiering the eyeglass, you know, I should be happy to undertake, if it suited your ideas.”

“Don’t,” said Miss Vane, “please don’t alter yourself in any particular.”

“You really mean that?” Wimsey flushed a little. “I hope it doesn’t mean that nothing I could do would make me even passable. I’ll come in a different set of garments each time, so as to give you a good all-round idea of the subject. Bunter⁠—my man, you know⁠—will see to that. He has excellent taste in ties, and socks, and things like that. Well, I suppose I ought to be going. You⁠—er⁠—you’ll think it over, won’t you, if you have a minute to spare. There’s no hurry. Only don’t hesitate to say if you think you couldn’t stick it at any price. I’m not trying to blackmail you into matrimony, you know. I mean, I should investigate this for the fun of the thing, whatever happened, don’t you see.”

“It’s very good of you⁠—”

“No, no, not at all. It’s my hobby. Not proposing to people, I don’t mean, but investigating things. Well, cheer frightfully ho and all that. And I’ll call again, if I may.”

“I will give the footman orders to admit you,” said the prisoner, gravely; “you will always find me at home.”

Wimsey walked down the dingy street with a feeling of being almost lightheaded.

“I do believe I’ll pull it off⁠—she’s sore, of course⁠—no wonder, after that rotten brute⁠—but she doesn’t feel repelled⁠—one couldn’t cope with being repulsive⁠—her skin is like honey⁠—she ought to wear deep red⁠—and old garnets⁠—and lots of rings, rather old-fashioned ones⁠—I could work to make it up to her⁠—she’s got a sense of humour too⁠—brains⁠—one wouldn’t be dull⁠—one would wake up, and there’d be a whole day for jolly things to happen in⁠—and then one would come home and go to bed⁠—that would be jolly, too⁠—and while she was writing, I could go out and mess round, so we shouldn’t either of us be dull⁠—I wonder if Bunter was right about this suit⁠—it’s a little dark, I always think, but the line is good⁠—”

He paused before a shop window to get a surreptitious view of his own reflection. A large coloured window bill caught his eye⁠—

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“Oh, God!” he said softly, sobered at once. “One month⁠—four weeks⁠—thirty-one days. There isn’t much time. And I don’t know where to begin.”