Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 158, February 18th, 1920 by Various


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Page 5

"What body?" I gasped.

"Why, EINSTEIN'S, of course," said Miss Brown. "Edward murdered him last
night for his theory. Didn't you suspect?"

I confessed that I had not.

"Oh, yes," she said; "smothered him with a pen-wiper. I saw him do it, but
I said nothing for Angela's sake, she's so refined."

She darted from me into the drawing-room. I followed and found her standing
before the fireplace waving the candle wildly in one hand, a poker in the
other and sniffing loudly.

"We must save Edward," she said; "we must find the body and hide it before
they can bring in a writ of _Habeas Corpus_. It is here. I can smell blood.
Look under the sofa."

She made a flourish at me with her weapon and I at once dived under the
sofa. I am a brave man, but I know better than to withstand people in Miss
Brown's state of mind.

"Is it there?" she inquired.

"No."

"Then search under the carpet--quickly!"

She swung the poker round her head and I searched quickly under the carpet.
During the next hour, at the dictates of her and her poker, I burrowed
under a score of carpets, swarmed numerous book-cases, explored a host of
cupboards, dived under a multitude of furniture and even climbed into the
open chimney-place of the study, because Miss Brown's nose imagined it
smelt roasting flesh up there. These people must be humoured. When I came
down (accompanied by a heavy fall of soot) the lady had vanished. I rushed
into the hall. She was mounting the stairs.

"Where are you going now?" I demanded.

She leaned over the balustrade and nodded to me, yawning broadly: "To
Edward's room. He must have taken the corpse to bed with him."

"Stop! Hold on! Come back," I implored, panic-stricken. Miss Brown held
imperviously on. I sped after her, but mercifully she had got the rooms
mixed in her decomposed brain and, instead of turning into Edward's, walked
straight into her own and shut the door behind her. I wedged a chair
against the handle to prevent any further excursions for the night and
crept softly away.

As I went I heard a soft chuckle from within, the senseless laughter, as I
diagnosed it, of a raving maniac.

* * * * *

I got down to breakfast early next morning, determined to tell the whole
sad story and have Miss Brown put under restraint without further ado.

Before I could get a word out, however, the lunatic herself appeared,
looking, I thought, absolutely full of beans. She and Aunt Angela exchanged
salutations.

"I hope you slept better last night, Jane."

"Splendidly, thank you, Angela, except for an hour or so; but I got up and
walked it off."

"Walked it off! Where?"

"All over the house. Most exciting."

"Do you mean to say you were walking about the house last night all by
yourself?" Aunt Angela exclaimed in horror.

Miss Brown shook her grey head. "Oh, no, not by myself. Our sympathetic
young friend had a touch of insomnia himself for once and was good enough
to keep me company." She smiled sweetly in my direction. "He was _most_
entertaining. I've been chuckling ever since."

PATLANDER.

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Thu 9th Jan 2025, 12:29