Strong Poison: Chapter 12 - Christmas at Duke's Denver and Freddy Arbuthnot's Engagement

SPEAKER_1 (0:00)

Chapter 12

Wimsey was accustomed to say, when he was an old man and more talkative even than usual, that the recollection of that Christmas at Duke's Denver had haunted him in nightmares, every night regularly, for the following 20 years.

But it is possible that he remembered it with advantages. There is no doubt that it tried his temper severely. It began inauspiciously at the tea table when Mrs. Freak Dimsworthy fluted out in her high, overriding voice. And is it true, Lord Peter, dear, that you are defending that frightful poisoning woman? The question acted like the drawing of a champagne cork. The whole party's bottled up curiosity about the vein case creamed over in one windy gust of stinging froth.

I've no doubt she did it, and I don't blame her, said Captain Tommy Bates, perfectly foul blighter. As his photograph on the dust cover of his books, you know, that's the sort of squid he was. Wonderful, the rotters these highbrow females will fall for. The whole lot of them ought to be poisoned like rats. Look at the harm they do to the country. But he was a very fine writer, protested Mrs Featherstone, a lady in her thirties whose violently compressed figure suggested that she was engaged in a perpetual struggle to compute her weight in terms of the first syllables of her name rather than the last. His books are positively gallic in their audacity and restraint. Audacity is not rare, but that perfect concision of style is a gift which... Oh, if you like dirt, interrupted the captain, rather rudely. I wouldn't call it that, said Mrs Featherstone. He is Frank, of course, and that is what people in this country will not forgive. It is part of our national hypocrisy, but the beauty of the writing puts it all on a higher plane.

Well, I wouldn't have the muck in the house, said the captain firmly. I caught Hilda with it, and I said, Now you send that book straight back to the library. I don't often interfere, but one must draw the line somewhere.

Peter Wimsey (1:54)

How did you know what it was like?

SPEAKER_1 (1:55)

asked Wimsey innocently.

Why James Douglas's article in the Express was good enough for me, said Captain Bates. The paragraphs he quoted were filthy, positively filthy.

Peter Wimsey (2:06)

Well, it's a good thing we've all read them, said Wimsey. Forewarned is forearmed.

SPEAKER_3 (2:11)

We owe a great debt of gratitude to the press, said the Dowager Duchess. So kind of them to pick out all the plums for us and save the trouble of reading the books, don't you think? And such a joy for the poor dear people who can't afford seven and sixpence, or even a library subscription, I suppose. Though I'm sure that works out cheaply enough if one is a quick reader.

Not that the cheap ones will take those books for, I asked my maid, such a superior girl and so keen on improving her mind, which is more than I can say for most of my friends. But no doubt it is all due to free education for the people, and I suspect her in my heart of voting labour, though I never ask because I don't think it's fair, and besides, if I did, I couldn't very well take any notice of it, could I?

SPEAKER_1 (3:11)

Still I don't suppose the young woman murdered him on that account, said her daughter-in-law. From all accounts she was just as bad as he was.

Peter Wimsey (3:18)

Oh, come!

SPEAKER_1 (3:19)

said Wimsey.

Peter Wimsey (3:19)

You can't think that, Helen. Damn it! She writes detective stories, and in detective stories virtue is always triumphant. They're the purest literature we have.

SPEAKER_1 (3:30)

The devil is always ready to quote scripture when it pays him to do so, said the younger duchess, and they say the wretched woman's sales are going up by leaps and bounds.

It's my belief, said Mr Harringay, that the whole thing is a publicity stunt gone wrong.

He was a large, jovial man, extremely rich and connected with the city. You never know what these advertising fellows are up to. Well, it looks like a case of hanging the goose that lays the golden eggs this time, said Captain Bates with a loud laugh, unless Wimsey means to pull off one of his conjuring tricks. I hope he does, said Miss Titterton. I adore detective stories. I'd commute the sentence to penal servitude on condition that she turned out a new story every six months. It would be much more useful than picking oakum or sewing mail bags for the post office to mislay.

Peter Wimsey (4:16)

Aren't you being a bit previous?