Coroner's Pidgin by Margery Allingham Page A

for it at this juncture. I mean,” he added awkwardly, “we don’t want to, just at the moment.”
    The younger man got up with care.
    â€œYou’re right. I shall go away and nurse myself,” he said. “This is a job for somebody else. I can have my luggage, I suppose?”
    â€œNo, I don’t want you to do that.” Oates was still speaking very carefully. “I don’t want you to leave London for a day or two. You can get at these people much more easily than we can.”
    Mr. Campion’s smile became genuinely amused. “Scotland Yard employs mental defective,” he suggested.
    â€œScotland Yard holds material witness, if not accessory after the fact,” said Oates. “I tell you frankly, if this is what I think it is, it’s a most unpleasant, difficult incident in one of the most extraordinary crimes I’ve yet met, and if thisgood lady is lying, as you suggest, then it’s going to be very awkward.”
    â€œI think she’s lying, and I think I know why,” said Campion carefully. “She’s lying because she doesn’t know it’s serious.”
    â€œShe was told,” Yeo repeated.
    â€œYes, I know. But even so, it hasn’t registered. This is a woman who is absolutely sound and wide-awake in her own sphere, but murder is outside that sphere. She’s never come up against anything remotely like it.”
    Oates sniffed. “She’s got a lot of nerve and she admits moving the body. If she’s lied as well, I don’t see why she shouldn’t have done the whole thing.”
    â€œNor do I,” agreed Campion, “except that I don’t see why. Also I don’t see how she could possibly have arranged my kidnapping. I don’t see the point of that, either, unless she had some good reason for not making her statement before this morning, and in that case who ‘phoned the police last night?”
    â€œWhy should your kidnapping have anything to do with the case at all?” enquired Oates. “As I see it that was something entirely fortuitous.”
    â€œThat’s what I think,” put in Yeo, looking up. “That incident must be something separate. That’s revenge; someone who had a grudge against Mr. Campion was lying in wait for him.” He cocked an eye at Campion. “You don’t think so?” he suggested.
    The tall, thin figure by the chair shrugged his shoulders. “Not a very good revenge,” he observed mildly. “Why should anyone carry a man off to one garage, put him out, and then carry him off to another where he leaves him after strewing his belongings all over the place. He irritates him possibly, but he doesn’t do him much harm.”
    â€œAll the same, it doesn’t seem reasonable to me that the Carados Square lot could have had anything to do with it,” Yeo persisted, “and they’re the people in whom we are primarily interested. They’re all being interviewed, of course. The first thing is to make certain where the killing took place, and if they are all going to lie like troopers, thatisn’t going to be so simple with Lugg out of the way.”
    Mr. Campion wheeled round. “Lugg out of the way?” he enquired.
    â€œYes, I’m afraid so.” Yeo was apologetic. “He seems to have taken the ambulance back to the Depot last night, fed his pig, and then vanished. We shall pull him in eventually, of course, but meanwhile there’s just the two conflicting statements, yours and Lady Carados’s.”
    â€œHere, Campion, where are you going?” Oates demanded.
    Mr. Campion, who was already in the passage, put his head round the door again. “To find him,” he said, “‘you didn’t tell me it was serious.”
    He came out into the watery sunlight in evil mood. He was dirty and stiff from his night’s adventure, exasperated with Oates for what appeared to be an