I go out or not is no business of yours,’ she said coldly.
‘It is my business whether I communicate with the police or not, though,’ said Tuppence.
In a minute the girl had turned ashy pale.
‘You mustn’t – you mustn’t – I won’t go out – but don’t do that.’ She clung to Tuppence beseechingly.
‘My dear Miss Kingston Bruce,’ said Tuppence, smiling, ‘the case has been perfectly clear to me from the start – I –’
But she was interrupted. In the stress of her encounter with the girl, Tuppence had not heard the front-door bell. Now, to her astonishment, Tommy came bounding up the stairs, and in the hall below she caught sight of a big burly man in the act of removing a bowler hat.
‘Detective Inspector Marriot of Scotland Yard,’ he said with a grin.
With a cry, Beatrice Kingston Bruce tore herself from Tuppence’s grasp and dashed down the stairs, just as the front door was opened once more to admit Mr Rennie.
‘Now you have torn it,’ said Tuppence bitterly.
‘Eh?’ said Tommy, hurrying into Lady Laura’s room. He passed on into the bathroom and picked up a large cake of soap which he brought out in his hands. The Inspector was just mounting the stairs.
‘She went quite quietly,’ he announced. ‘She’s an old hand and knows when the game is up. What about the pearl?’
‘I rather fancy,’ said Tommy, handing him the soap, ‘that you’ll find it in here.’
The Inspector’s eyes lit up appreciatively.
‘An old trick, and a good one. Cut a cake of soap in half, scoop out a place for the jewel, clap it together again, and smooth the join well over with hot water. A very smart piece of work on your part, sir.’
Tommy accepted the compliment gracefully. He and Tuppence descended the stairs. Colonel Kingston Bruce rushed at him and shook him warmly by the hand.
‘My dear sir, I can’t thank you enough. Lady Laura wants to thank you also –’
‘I am glad we have given you satisfaction,’ said Tommy. ‘But I’m afraid I can’t stop. I have a most urgent appointment. Member of the Cabinet.’
He hurried out to the car and jumped in. Tuppence jumped in beside him.
‘But Tommy,’ she cried. ‘Haven’t they arrested Lady Laura after all?’
‘Oh!’ said Tommy. ‘Didn’t I tell you? They’ve not arrested Lady Laura. They’ve arrested Elise.’
‘You see,’ he went on, as Tuppence sat dumbfounded, ‘I’ve often tried to open a door with soap on my hands myself. It can’t be done – your hands slip. So I wondered what Elise could have been doing with the soap to get her hands as soapy as all that. She caught up a towel, you remember, so there were no traces of soap on the handle afterwards. But it occurred to me that if you were a professional thief, it wouldn’t be a bad plan to be maid to a lady suspected of kleptomania who stayed about a good deal in different houses. So I managed to get a photo of her as well as of the room, induced her to handle a glass slide and toddled off to dear old Scotland Yard. Lightning development of negative, successful identification of finger-prints – and photo. Elise was a long lost friend. Useful place, Scotland Yard.’
‘And to think,’ said Tuppence, finding her voice, ‘that those two young idiots were only suspecting each other in that weak way they do it in books. But why didn’t you tell me what you were up to when you went off?’
‘In the first place, I suspected that Elise was listening on the landing, and in the second place –’
‘Yes?’
‘My learned friend forgets,’ said Tommy. ‘Thorndyke never tells until the last moment. Besides, Tuppence, you and your pal Janet Smith put one over on me last time. This makes us all square.’
Chapter 3
The Adventure of the Sinister Stranger
‘The Adventure of the Sinister Stranger’ was first published in The Sketch, 22 October 1924. The brothers Desmond and Major
Okewood were created by Valentine Williams (1183–1946), writing as Douglas Valentine.
‘It’s been a darned dull day,’ said Tommy, and yawned widely.
‘Nearly tea time,’ said Tuppence and also yawned.
Business was not brisk in the International Detective Agency. The eagerly expected letter from the ham merchant had not arrived and bona fide cases were not forthcoming.
Albert, the office boy, entered with a sealed package which he laid on the table.
‘The Mystery of the Sealed Packet,’ murmured Tommy. ‘Did it contain the fabulous pearls of the Russian Grand Duchess? Or was it an infernal machine destined to blow Blunt’s Brilliant Detectives to pieces?’
‘As a matter of fact,’ said Tuppence, tearing open the package. ‘It’s my wedding present to Francis Haviland. Rather nice, isn’t it?’
Tommy took a slender silver cigarette case from her outstretched hand, noted the inscription engraved in her own handwriting, ‘Francis from Tuppence,’ opened and shut the case, and nodded approvingly.
‘You do throw your money about, Tuppence,’ he remarked. ‘I’ll have one like it, only in gold, for my birthday next month. Fancy wasting a thing like that on Francis Haviland, who always was and always will be one of the most perfect asses God ever made!’
‘You forget I used to drive him about during the war, when he was a General. Ah! those were the good old days.’
‘They were,’ agreed Tommy. ‘Beautiful women used to come and squeeze my hand in hospital, I remember. But I don’t send them all wedding presents. I don’t believe the bride will care much for this gift of yours, Tuppence.’
‘It’s nice and slim for the pocket, isn’t it?’ said Tuppence, disregarding his remarks.
Tommy slipped it into his own pocket.
‘Just right,’ he said approvingly. ‘Hullo, here is Albert with the afternoon post. Very possibly the Duchess of Perthshire is commissioning us to find her prize Peke.’
They sorted through the letters together. Suddenly Tommy gave vent to a prolonged whistle and held up one of them in his hand.
‘A blue letter with a Russian stamp on it. Do you remember what the Chief said? We were to look out for letters like that.’
‘How exciting,’ said Tuppence. ‘Something has happened at last. Open it and see if the contents are up to schedule. A ham merchant, wasn’t it? Half a minute. We shall want some milk for tea. They forgot to leave it this morning. I’ll send Albert out for it.’
She returned from the outer office, after despatching Albert on his errand, to find Tommy holding the blue sheet of paper in his hand.
‘As we thought, Tuppence,’ he remarked. ‘Almost word for word what the Chief said.’
Tuppence took the letter from him and read it.
It was couched in careful stilted English, and purported to be from one Gregor Feodorsky, who was anxious for news of his wife. The International Detective Agency was urged to spare no expense in doing their utmost to trace her. Feodorsky himself was unable to leave Russia at the moment owing to a crisis in the pork trade.
‘I wonder what it really means,’ said Tuppence thoughtfully, smoothing out the sheet on the table in front of her.
‘Code of some kind, I suppose,’ said Tommy. ‘That’s not our business. Our business is to hand it over to the Chief as soon as possible. Better just verify it by soaking off the stamp and seeing if the number 16 is underneath.’