More Work for the Undertaker by Margery Allingham

experiencing now,’ she began magnificently, ‘has made me think about the extraordinary curiosity of the vulgar. I use that word in its proper Latin sense, of course. I’ve been playing with the idea of writing a monograph on it. You see, the interesting point as it occurs to me is that the higher or more cultivated the subject the less the curiosity. Now that would appear to be a contradiction, wouldn’t it? Is it a question of parallel taboos exerting their restraints or is it actual? What do you think?’
    Of all the possible aspects of the Palinode case this was one which had so far escaped Mr Campion’s attention, but he was spared the effort of making an answer by the sudden opening of the door. It shuddered back against the wall and a tall, shambling figure, wearing very strong spectacles, appeared on the threshold. It was evident that this was the brother. He wastall and big-boned like his sister and possessed her wide head, but he was a far more nervous subject and his jaw was underhung and finer. Both his hair and clothes were coarse and dark and untidy, and his thin neck, surprisingly more red than his face, stuck out from a wide soft collar at a sharp forward angle. In both hands, carrying it before him as if he were pushing his way with it, he carried a thick volume which bristled with paper markers. He peered at Campion as if he were a stranger encountered in the street whom he thought he recognized, but on discovering he did not he swung past him and confronted Miss Evadne, saying in a queer honking voice which sounded goose-like and unreliable, as if he seldom used it:
    â€˜The heliotropium is still out. Did you know?’
    He seemed so upset about it that Campion might have received an entirely false impression had he not remembered that Clytie White had been born in, or nearly in, the sea. The name was a classical one and he guessed that the original Clytie was probably a daughter of Oceanus. He fancied that he recollected that one of the daughters of the sea god was changed, after the habit of nymphs, into the plant heliotropium. He was not sure but the odds seemed very good on heliotropium being the family or pet name of Clytie White. It was all a little literary but not impossible.
    He was congratulating himself when Miss Evadne said easily:
    â€˜No, I did not. Does it matter?’
    â€˜Of course it does.’ Lawrence was irritable. ‘Aren’t you forgetting the daisies which never blow?’
    Campion was elated. Once again he recognized the reference. It came out fresh from a forgotten locker in his mind.
    While to this day no grass will grow
    Where she lies low.
    I planted daisies there a year ago
    That never blow.
    You should not loiter so.
    Goblin Market. Christina Rossetti. The wise sistercautioning the silly sister about staying out late in questionable company.
    Lawrence Palinode seemed to be speaking fairly practically, if in a curious vernacular. Although deeply sympathetic towards Charlie Luke if he had been taking evidence in the patois of this particular country, Campion was relieved. If the Palinode ‘family language’ consisted of references to the classics, a good memory and a comprehensive dictionary of quotations should go quite a long way.
    Miss Evadne disillusioned him.
    â€˜That’s all very well,’ she said to her brother. ‘Have you performed a Cousin Cawnthrope?’
    Mr Campion’s heart sank. He recognized in that remark the one unbreakable code known to man, the family allusion.
    The effect of the words on Lawrence was surprising. He looked bewildered.
    â€˜No, no I haven’t, but I will,’ he said, and strode out of the room, leaving the door wide open.
    Miss Evadne handed Mr Campion her empty cup, presumably to save herself the trouble of bending forward to set it down. She had not altered her position since he had entered the room, and it went through his mind that she might possibly be hiding something