Whose Body? A Lord Peter Wimsey Novel
By Sayers, Dorothy L. (Dorothy Leigh)
Classic work by Sayers, Dorothy L. (Dorothy Leigh).
Table of Contents
“Oh, damn!” said Lord Peter Wimsey at Piccadilly Circus. “Hi, driver!” The taxi man, irritated at receiving this appeal while negotiating the intricacies of turning into Lower Reg...
“Excellent, Bunter,” said Lord Peter, sinking with a sigh into a luxurious armchair. “I couldn’t have done better myself. The thought of the Dante makes my mouth water—and the ‘Fou...
Lord Peter finished a Scarlatti sonata, and sat looking thoughtfully at his own hands. The fingers were long and muscular, with wide, flat joints and square tips. When he was playi...
“—So there it is, Parker,” said Lord Peter, pushing his coffee-cup aside and lighting his after-breakfast pipe; “you may find it leads you to something, though it don’t seem to get...
Mr. Parker was a bachelor, and occupied a Georgian but inconvenient flat at No. 12A Great Ormond Street, for which he paid a pound a week. His exertions in the cause of civilizatio...
It was, in fact, inconvenient for Mr. Parker to leave London. He had had to go and see Lady Levy towards the end of the morning, and subsequently his plans for the day had been thr...
On returning to the flat just before lunch-time on the following morning, after a few confirmatory researches in Balham and the neighbourhood of Victoria Station, Lord Peter was gr...
Lord Peter reached home about midnight, feeling extraordinarily wakeful and alert. Something was jigging and worrying in his brain; it felt like a hive of bees, stirred up by a sti...
mind off it.” He read on resolutely for a little. “I don’t suppose Mother’s kept up with the Levys much,” was the next importunate train of thought. “Dad always hated self-made p...
Mr. Parker, summoned the next morning to 110 Piccadilly, arrived to find the Dowager Duchess in possession. She greeted him charmingly. “I am going to take this silly boy down to ...
Mr. Parker, a faithful though doubting Thomas, had duly secured his medical student: a large young man like an overgrown puppy, with innocent eyes and a freckled face. He sat on th...
“A regular pea-souper, by Jove,” said Lord Peter. Parker grunted, and struggled irritably into an overcoat. “It affords me, if I may say so, the greatest satisfaction,” continued...
The vile, raw fog tore your throat and ravaged your eyes. You could not see your feet. You stumbled in your walk over poor men’s graves. The feel of Parker’s old trench-coat benea...
Dear Lord Peter—When I was a young man I used to play chess with an old friend of my father’s. He was a very bad, and a very slow, player, and he could never see when a checkmate w...