Five Red Herrings by Dorothy L. Sayers Page B

murder, when they nearly have you into the ditch. Or suicide.’
    He jumped to his feet with an exclamation of concern. This time Mrs. Farren had really fainted.
    GRAHAM
    Lord Peter Wimsey, having rendered first aid to Mrs. Farren, left her comfortably reclining on the couch in the sitting-room and went in search of Jeanie. He discovered her in the fishmonger’s and dispatched her home with the tidings that her mistress was unwell.
    ‘Ay,’ said Jeanie, philosophically. ‘I’m no surprised. She’s troubled in her mind about Mr. Farren. And nae wonder, wi’ him mekkin’ a’ that disturbance and gaein’ aff that gate an’ never comin’ back for twa nichts.’
    ‘Two nights?’ said Wimsey.
    ‘Ay. Nicht before last it was he went aff on his bicycle, swearin’ somethin’ awfu’ an’ nae ward tae say whaur he was gaein’ nor what he was gaein’ to du.’
    ‘Then he wasn’t at home last night for dinner?’
    ‘Him? Hame for’s denner? ’Deed no, nor ony time o’ the day. Monday nicht it was he come back an’ fund Campbell i’ the hoose an’ sent him packin’, an’ after that there was sic a collie-shangie it nigh frighted my brither’s wife into a fit an’ her verra near her time, tu. An’ out he gaes and away, wi’ Mistress Farren runnin’ oot o’ the door after him wi’ the tears fallin’ doon her cheeks. I dinna ken for why she takes on so aboot the man. I’d let him gae an’ be daumed tae him, wi’ his jealousies an’ his tempers.’
    Wimsey began to see why Jeanie had been sent out on an errand in such a hurry. It was foolish, though, for nobody could expect the girl to hold her tongue over so fine a piece of gossip. Sooner or later, the tale would have to come out to somebody. Even now he observed that curious glances were following them down the street.
    He asked a few more questions. No. Jeanie’s brother’s wife could not say exactly what the quarrel was about, but she had witnessed it from her bedroom window. Mr. Campbell had been in about 6 o’clock, and then Mr. Farren had come in and Mr. Campbell had gone away almost immediately. She could not say there had been any dispute between Farren and Campbell. But then Mr. and Mrs. Farren had talked about an hour in the sitting-room and Mr. Farren had walked about the room and waved his hands a great deal, and Mrs. Farren had cried. Then there had been a shouting and a kind of a skelloch, and Mr. Farren had run out of the door cramming his hat over his eyes, and had snatched up his bicycle. And Mrs. Farren had run out to stop him and he had shaken her roughly off and ridden away. Nor had he been home syne, for Jeanie’s brother’s wife had kept a look-out for him, being interested to see what might happen.
    That was Monday and this was Wednesday; and on the Tuesday, Campbell had been found dead up at the Minnoch.
    Wimsey said good-bye to Jeanie, with a caution against talking too much about her employer’s affairs, and turned in the direction of the police-station. Then he changed his mind. No need to make trouble before it was wanted. There might be other developments. It would not be a bad idea to run over to Gatehouse. There was a question he wanted to ask Mrs. Green who did the charing for Campbell. Also, something might have been found at Campbell’s house — letters, papers or what-not. In any case, a wee run in the car would do him no harm.
    Passing over the bridge at Gatehouse, with these intentions, he was arrested by the sight of a tall man standing outside the Anwoth Hotel in conference with the local constable. The man, who was very shabbily dressed in an ancient burberry, dilapidated plus-fours, disreputable boots and leggings and a knapsack, waved a hand in violent greeting. Wimsey pulled up with reckless haste, nearly slaying the hotel cat, and waved violently back.
    ‘Hullo — ullo — ullo!’ he cried. ‘Where d’you spring from, you old ruffian?’
    ‘That’s just what everybody seems anxious to know,’ said the untidy man, extending a large, raw-boned hand. ‘I