Strong Poison · Chapter 8 (3/3)

A telephone rang somewhere outside, and Eiluned Price went out to answer it.

“Eiluned’s anti-man,” said Sylvia, “but she’s a very reliable person.”

Wimsey nodded.

“But she’s wrong about Phil⁠—she couldn’t stick him, naturally, and she’s apt to think⁠—”

“It’s for you, Lord Peter,” said Eiluned, returning. “Fly at once⁠—all is known. You’re wanted by Scotland Yard.”

Wimsey hastened out.

“That you, Peter? I’ve been scouring London for you. We’ve found the pub.”

“Never!”

“Fact. And we’re on the track of a packet of white powder.”

“Good God!”

“Can you run down first thing tomorrow? We may have it for you.”

“I will skip like a ram and hop like a high hill. We’ll beat you yet, Mr. Bleeding Chief Inspector Parker.”

“I hope you will,” said Parker, amiably, and rang off.

Wimsey pranced back into the room.

“Miss Price’s price has gone to odds on,” he announced. “It’s suicide, fifty to one and no takers. I am going to grin like a dog and run about the city.”

“I’m sorry I can’t join you,” said Sylvia Marriott, “but I’m glad if I’m wrong.”

“I’m glad I’m right,” said Eiluned Price, stolidly.

“And you are right and I am right and everything is quite all right,” said Wimsey.

Marjorie Phelps looked at him and said nothing. She suddenly felt as though something inside her had been put through a wringer.