Read Have His Carcase for Free Online Page A

again.
    ‘Give me Ludgate 6000 – quick as ever you can. Urgent press cal. I must
    have it within five minutes.’
    The operator began to make objections.
    ‘Listen – that’s the number of the Morning Star . It’s a priority cal.’
    ‘Wel,’ said the operator, dubiously, ‘I’l see what I can do.’
    Harriet waited.
    Three minutes passed – four – five – six. Then the bel rang. Harriet snatched
    the receiver down.
    ‘ Morning Star .’
    ‘Give me the news-room – quick.’
    Buzz – click.
    ‘ Morning Star news-editor.’
    Harriet gathered herself together to cram her story into the fewest and most
    teling words.
    ‘I am speaking from Darley near Wilvercombe. The dead body of a man
    was found at two o’clock this afternoon – al right. Ready? – on the coast this
    afternoon with his throat cut from ear to ear. The discovery was made by Miss

    Harriet Vane, the wel-known detective novelist. . . . Yes, that’s right – the
    Harriet Vane who was tried for murder two years ago. . . . Yes. . . . The dead
    man appears to be about twenty years of age – blue eyes – short dark beard –
    dressed in a dark-blue lounge suit with brown shoes and chamois-leather
    gloves. . . . A razor was found near the body. . . . Probably suicide. . . . Oh,
    yes, it might be murder; or cal it mysterious circumstances. . . . Yes. . . . Miss
    Vane, who is on a walking-tour, gathering material for her forthcoming book,
    The Fountain-Pen Mystery , was obliged to walk for several miles before
    getting help. . . . No, the police haven’t seen the body yet . . . it’s probably
    under water by now, but I suppose they’l get it at low tide. . . . I’l ring you
    later. . . . Yes. . . . What? . . . Oh, this is Miss Vane speaking. . . . Yes. . . .
    No, I’m giving you this exclusively. . . . Wel, I suppose it wil be al over the
    place presently, but I’m giving you my story exclusively . . . provided, of
    course, you give me a good show. . . . Yes, of course. . . . Oh! wel, I suppose
    I shal be staying in Wilvercombe. . . . I don’t know; I’l ring you up when I
    know where I’m staying. . . . Right . . . right. . . . Good-bye.’
    As she rang off, she heard a car draw up to the door, and emerged through
    the little shop to encounter a large man in a grey suit, who began impatiently: ‘I
    am Inspector Umpelty. What’s al this about?’
    ‘Oh, Inspector! I’m so glad to see you. I began to think I never should get
    hold of anybody with any common-sense about them. I’ve had a trunk-cal, Mr
    Hearn. I don’t know what it costs, but here’s a ten-bob note. I’l cal for the
    change another time. I’ve told my friends I shal be stuck in Wilvercombe for a
    few days, Inspector. I suppose that’s right, isn’t it?’
    This was disingenuous, but novelists and police-inspectors do not always see
    eye to eye as regards publicity.
    ‘That’s right, miss. Have to ask you to stay on a bit while we look into this.
    Better jump into the car and we’l run out to where you say you saw this body.
    This gentleman is Dr Fenchurch. This is Sergeant Saunders.’
    Harriet acknowledged the introduction.
    ‘Why I’ve been brought along I don’t know,’ said the police-surgeon in an
    aggrieved voice. ‘If this man was down near low-water mark at two o’clock,
    we shan’t see much of him tonight. Tide’s more than half-ful now, and a strong

    wind blowing.’
    ‘That’s the devil of it,’ agreed the Inspector.
    ‘I know,’ said Harriet, mournfuly, ‘but realy I did my best.’ She recounted
    the details of her odyssey, mentioning everything she had done at the rock and
    producing the shoe, the cigarette-case, the hat, the handkerchief and the razor.
    ‘Wel, there,’ said the Inspector, ‘you seem to have done a pretty tidy job,
    miss. Anybody’d think you’d made a study of it. Taking photographs and al.
    Not but what,’ he added, sternly, ‘if you’d started sooner you’d have been
    here before.’
    ‘I didn’t