room and discovered the body.
And during that twenty minutes—-
Inspector Neele swore to himself and went
out into the kitchen.
Sitting in a chair by the kitchen table, the
vast figure of Mrs. Crump, her belligerence
pricked like a balloon, hardly stirred as he
came in.
“Where’s that girl? Has she come back
yet?”
“Gladys? No–she’s not back—- Won’t be,
I suspect, until eleven o’clock.”
“She made the tea, you say, and took it in.”
“I didn’t touch it, sir, as God’s my witness.
And what’s more I don’t believe Gladys did
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anything she shouldn’t. She wouldn’t do a
thing like that–not Gladys. She’s a good
enough girl, sir–a bit foolish like, that’s
all–not wicked.”
No, Neele did not think that Gladys was
wicked. He did not think that Gladys was a
poisoner. And in any case the cyanide had not
been in the teapot.
“But what made her go off suddenly–like
this? It wasn’t her day out, you say.”
“No, sir, to-morrow’s her day out.”
“Does Crump—-”
Mrs. Crump’s belligerence suddenly
revived. Her voice rose wrathfully.
“Don’t you go fastening anything on
Crump. Crump’s out of it. He went off at
three o’clock–and thankful I am now that he
did. He’s as much out of it as Mr. Percival
himself.”
Percival Fortescue had only just returned
from London–to be greeted by the astounding
news of this second tragedy.
“I wasn’t accusing Crump,” said Neele
mildly. “I just wondered if he knew anything
about Gladys’s plans.”
“She had her best nylons on,” said Mrs.
Crump. “She was up to something. Don’t tell
me! Didn’t cut any sandwiches for tea, either.
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Oh yes, she was up to something. /’ll give her
a piece of my mind when she comes back.”
When she comes back——
A faint uneasiness possessed Neele. To
shake it off he went upstairs to Adele
Fortescue’s bedroom. A lavish apartment—all
rose brocade hangings and a vast gilt bed. On
one side of the room was a door into a mirror
lined bathroom with a sunk orchid pink
porcelain bath. Beyond the bathroom,
reached by a communicating door, was Rex
Fortescue’s dressing room. Neele went back
into Adele’s bedroom, and through the door
on the farther side of the room into her
sitting-room.
The room was furnished in Empire style
with a rose pile carpet. Neele only gave it a
cursory glance for that particular room had
had his close attention on the preceding
day—with special attention paid to the small
elegant desk.
Now, however, he stiffened to sudden
attention. On the centre of the rose pile
carpet was a small piece of caked mud.
Neele went over to it and picked it up. The
mud was still damp.
He looked round—there were no footprints
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visible–only this one isolated fragment of
wet earth.
IV
Inspector Neele looked round the bedroom
that belonged to Gladys Martin. It was past
eleven o’clock–Crump had come in half an
hour ago–but there was still no sign of
Gladys. Inspector Neele looked round him.
Whatever Gladys’s training had been, her own
natural instincts were slovenly. The bed,
Inspector Neele judged, was seldom made,
the windows seldom opened. Gladys’s
personal habits, however, were not his
immediate concern. Instead, he went carefully
through her possessions.
They consisted for the most part of cheap
and rather pathetic finery. There was little
that was durable or of good quality. The
elderly Ellen, whom he had called upon to
assist him, had not been helpful. She didn’t
know what clothes Gladys had or hadn’t. She
couldn’t say what, if anything, was missing.
He turned from the clothes and the underclothes
to the contents of the chest of
drawers. There Gladys kept her treasures.
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remembered as she hadn’t brought the
clothes in from where they were hanging on
the line–just round the corner from the back
door. So she went out with a torch to take
them in and she almost fell over the
body–the girl’s body–strangled, she was, with a stocking round her throat–been dead
for hours, I’d say. And, sir, it’s a wicked kind
of joke–there was a clothes peg clipped on her
nose»»
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13
A[ elderly lady travelling by train had
bought three morning papers, and