The Complete Tommy & Tuppence Collection (39 page)

“Who found the pendant?”

“The parlourmaid—Gladys Hill.”

“Any reason to suspect her?”

“She has been with us some years, and we have always found her perfectly honest. But, of course, one never knows—”

“Exactly. Will you describe your staff, and also tell me who was present at dinner last night?”

“There is the cook—she has been with us only two months, but then she would have no occasion to go near the drawing room—the same applies to the kitchenmaid. Then there is the housemaid, Alice Cummings. She also has been with us for some years. And Lady Laura's maid, of course. She is French.”

Colonel Kingston Bruce looked very impressive as he said this. Tommy, unaffected by the revelation of the maid's nationality, said: “Exactly. And the party at dinner?”

“Mr. and Mrs. Betts, ourselves—my wife and daughter—and Lady Laura. Young St. Vincent was dining with us, and Mr. Rennie looked in after dinner for a while.”

“Who is Mr. Rennie?”

“A most pestilential fellow—an arrant socialist. Good looking, of course, and with a certain specious power of argument. But a man, I don't mind telling you, whom I wouldn't trust a yard. A dangerous sort of fellow.”

“In fact,” said Tommy drily, “it is Mr. Rennie whom you suspect?”

“I do, Mr. Blunt. I'm sure, holding the views he does, that he can have no principles whatsoever. What could have been easier for him than to have quietly wrenched off the pearl at a moment when we were all absorbed in our game? There were several absorbing moments—a redoubled no trump hand, I remember, and also a painful argument when my wife had the misfortune to revoke.”

“Quite so,” said Tommy. “I should just like to know one thing—what is Mrs. Betts's attitude in all this?”

“She wanted me to call in the police,” said Colonel Kingston Bruce reluctantly. “That is, when we had searched everywhere in case the pearl had only dropped off.”

“But you dissuaded her?”

“I was very averse to the idea of publicity and my wife and daughter backed me up. Then my wife remembered young St. Vincent speaking about your firm at dinner last night—and the twenty-four hours' special service.”

“Yes,” said Tommy, with a heavy heart.

“You see, in any case, no harm will be done. If we call in the police tomorrow, it can be supposed that we thought the jewel merely lost and were hunting for it. By the way, nobody has been allowed to leave the house this morning.”

“Except your daughter, of course,” said Tuppence, speaking for the first time.

“Except my daughter,” agreed the Colonel. “She volunteered at once to go and put the case before you.”

Tommy rose.

“We will do our best to give you satisfaction, Colonel,” he said. “I should like to see the drawing room, and the table on which the pendant was laid down. I should also like to ask Mrs. Betts a few questions. After that, I will interview the servants—or rather my assistant, Miss Robinson, will do so.”

He felt his nerve quailing before the terrors of questioning the servants.

Colonel Kingston Bruce threw open the door and led them across the hall. As he did so, a remark came to them clearly through the open door of the room they were approaching and the voice that uttered it was that of the girl who had come to see them that morning.

“You know perfectly well, Mother,” she was saying, “that she
did
bring home a teaspoon in her muff.”

In another minute they were being introduced to Mrs. Kingston Bruce, a plaintive lady with a languid manner. Miss Kingston Bruce acknowledged their presence with a short inclination of the head. Her face was more sullen than ever.

Mrs. Kingston Bruce was voluble.

“—but I know who
I
think took it,” she ended. “That dreadful socialist young man. He loves the Russians and the Germans and hates the English—what else can you expect?”

“He never touched it,” said Miss Kingston Bruce fiercely. “I was watching him—all the time. I couldn't have failed to see if he had.”

She looked at them defiantly with her chin up.

Tommy created a diversion by asking for an interview with Mrs. Betts. When Mrs. Kingston Bruce had departed accompanied by her husband and daughter to find Mrs. Betts, he whistled thoughtfully.

“I wonder,” he said gently, “who it was who had a teaspoon in her muff?”

“Just what I was thinking,” replied Tuppence.

Mrs. Betts, followed by her husband, burst into the room. She was a big woman with a determined voice. Mr. Hamilton Betts looked dyspeptic and subdued.

“I understand, Mr. Blunt, that you are a private inquiry agent, and one who hustles things through at a great rate?”

“Hustle,” said Tommy, “is my middle name, Mrs. Betts. Let me ask you a few questions.”

Thereafter things proceeded rapidly. Tommy was shown the damaged pendant, the table on which it had lain, and Mr. Betts emerged from his taciturnity to mention the value, in dollars, of the stolen pearl.

And withal, Tommy felt an irritating certainty that he was not getting on.

“I think that will do,” he said, at length. “Miss Robinson, will you kindly fetch the special photographic apparatus from the hall?”

Miss Robinson complied.

“A little invention of my own,” said Tommy. “In appearance, you see, it is just like an ordinary camera.”

He had some slight satisfaction in seeing that the Betts were impressed.

He photographed the pendant, the table on which it had lain, and took several general views of the apartment. Then “Miss Robinson” was delegated to interview the servants, and in view of the eager expectancy on the faces of Colonel Kingston Bruce and Mrs. Betts, Tommy felt called upon to say a few authoritative words.

“The position amounts to this,” he said. “Either the pearl is still in the house, or it is not still in the house.”

“Quite so,” said the Colonel with more respect than was, perhaps, quite justified by the nature of the remark.

“If it is not in the house, it may be anywhere—but if it is in the house, it must necessarily be concealed somewhere—”

“And a search must be made,” broke in Colonel Kingston Bruce. “Quite so. I give you carte blanche, Mr. Blunt. Search the house from attic to cellar.”

“Oh! Charles,” murmured Mrs. Kingston Bruce tearfully, “do you think that is wise? The servants won't
like
it. I'm sure they'll leave.”

“We will search their quarters last,” said Tommy soothingly. “The thief is sure to have hidden the gem in the most unlikely place.”

“I seem to have read something of the kind,” agreed the Colonel.

“Quite so,” said Tommy. “You probably remember the case of Rex v Bailey, which created a precedent.”

“Oh—er—yes,” said the Colonel, looking puzzled.

“Now, the most unlikely place is in the apartment of Mrs. Betts,” continued Tommy.

“My! Wouldn't that be too cute?” said Mrs. Betts admiringly.

Without more ado she took him up to her room, where Tommy once more made use of the special photographic apparatus.

Presently Tuppence joined him there.

“You have no objection, I hope, Mrs. Betts, to my assistant's looking through your wardrobe?”

“Why, not at all. Do you need me here any longer?”

Tommy assured her that there was no need to detain her, and Mrs. Betts departed.

“We might as well go on bluffing it out,” said Tommy. “But personally I don't believe we've a dog's chance of finding the thing. Curse you and your twenty-four hours' stunt, Tuppence.”

“Listen,” said Tuppence. “The servants are all right, I'm sure, but I managed to get something out of the French maid. It seems that when Lady Laura was staying here a year ago, she went out to tea with some friends of the Kingston Bruces, and when she got home a teaspoon fell out of her muff. Everyone thought it must have fallen in by accident. But, talking about similar robberies, I got hold of a lot more. Lady Laura is always staying about with people. She hasn't got a bean, I gather, and she's out for comfortable quarters with people to whom a title still means something. It may be a coincidence—or it may be something more, but five distinct thefts have taken place whilst she has been staying in various houses, sometimes trivial things, sometimes valuable jewels.”

“Whew!” said Tommy, and gave vent to a prolonged whistle. “Where's the old bird's room, do you know?”

“Just across the passage.”

“Then I think, I rather think, that we'll just slip across and investigate.”

The room opposite stood with its door ajar. It was a spacious apartment, with white enamelled fitments and rose pink curtains. An inner door led to a bathroom. At the door of this appeared a slim, dark girl, very neatly dressed.

Tuppence checked the exclamation of astonishment on the girl's lips.

“This is Elise, Mr. Blunt,” she said primly. “Lady Laura's maid.”

Tommy stepped across the threshold of the bathroom, and approved inwardly its sumptuous and up-to-date fittings. He set to work to dispel the wide stare of suspicion on the French girl's face.

“You are busy with your duties, eh, Mademoiselle Elise?”

“Yes, Monsieur, I clean Milady's bath.”

“Well, perhaps you'll help me with some photography instead. I have a special kind of camera here, and I am photographing the interiors of all the rooms in this house.”

He was interrupted by the communicating door to the bedroom banging suddenly behind him. Elise jumped at the sound.

“What did that?”

“It must have been the wind,” said Tuppence.

“We will come into the other room,” said Tommy.

Elise went to open the door for them, but the door knob rattled aimlessly.

“What's the matter?” said Tommy sharply.

“Ah, Monsieur, but somebody must have locked it on the other side.” She caught up a towel and tried again. But this time the door handle turned easily enough, and the door swung open.

“
Voilà ce qui est curieux.
It must have been stuck,” said Elise.

There was no one in the bedroom.

Tommy fetched his apparatus. Tuppence and Elise worked under his orders. But again and again his glance went back to the communicating door.

“I wonder,” he said between his teeth—“I wonder why that door stuck?”

He examined it minutely, shutting and opening it. It fitted perfectly.

“One picture more,” he said with a sigh. “Will you loop back that rose curtain, Mademoiselle Elise? Thank you. Just hold it so.”

The familiar click occurred. He handed a glass slide to Elise to hold, relinquished the tripod to Tuppence, and carefully readjusted and closed the camera.

He made some easy excuse to get rid of Elise, and as soon as she was out of the room, he caught hold of Tuppence and spoke rapidly.

“Look here, I've got an idea. Can you hang on here? Search all the rooms—that will take some time. Try and get an interview with the old bird—Lady Laura—but don't alarm her. Tell her you suspect the parlourmaid. But whatever you do don't let her leave the house. I'm going off in the car. I'll be back as soon as I can.”

“All right,” said Tuppence. “But don't be too cocksure. You've forgotten one thing.

“The girl. There's something funny about that girl. Listen, I've found out the time she started from the house this morning. It took her two hours to get to our office. That's nonsense. Where did she go before she came to us?”

“There's something in that,” admitted her husband. “Well, follow up any old clue you like, but don't let Lady Laura leave the house. What's that?”

His quick ear had caught a faint rustle outside on the landing. He strode across to the door, but there was no one to be seen.

“Well, so long,” he said, “I'll be back as soon as I can.”

II

Tuppence watched him drive off in the car with a faint misgiving. Tommy was very sure—she herself was not so sure. There were one or two things she did not quite understand.

She was still standing by the window, watching the road, when she saw a man leave the shelter of a gateway opposite, cross the road and ring the bell.

In a flash Tuppence was out of the room and down the stairs. Gladys Hill, the parlourmaid, was emerging from the back part of the house, but Tuppence motioned her back authoritatively. Then she went to the front door and opened it.

A lanky young man with ill-fitting clothes and eager dark eyes was standing on the step.

He hesitated a moment, and then said:

“Is Miss Kingston Bruce in?”

“Will you come inside?” said Tuppence.

She stood aside to let him enter, closing the door.

“Mr. Rennie, I think?” she said sweetly.

He shot a quick glance at her.

“Er—yes.”

“Will you come in here, please?”

She opened the study door. The room was empty, and Tuppence entered it after him, closing the door behind her. He turned on her with a frown.

“I want to see Miss Kingston Bruce.”

“I am not quite sure that you can,” said Tuppence composedly.

“Look here, who the devil are you?” said Mr. Rennie rudely.

“International Detective Agency,” said Tuppence succinctly—and noticed Mr. Rennie's uncontrollable start.

“Please sit down, Mr. Rennie,” she went on. “To begin with, we know all about Miss Kingston Bruce's visit to you this morning.”

It was a bold guess, but it succeeded. Perceiving his consternation, Tuppence went on quickly.

“The recovery of the pearl is the great thing, Mr. Rennie. No one in this house is anxious for—publicity. Can't we come to some arrangement?”

The young man looked at her keenly.

“I wonder how much you know,” he said thoughtfully. “Let me think for a moment.”