‘You know,’ said Bobby, ‘we really are getting on. Now we must try, more or less, to reconstruct the crime. Let’s spread out our facts and see what sort of a job we can make of it.’ He paused for a moment and the car slackened speed as though in sympathy. Then he pressed his foot down once more on the accelerator and at the same time spoke.
‘First, we’ll assume that you are right about Alan Carstairs.
He certainly fulfils the conditions. He’s the right sort of man, he led a wandering life, he had very few friends and acquaintances in England, and if he disappeared he wasn’t likely to be missed or sought after.
‘So far, good. Alan Carstairs comes down to Staverley with these people – what did you say their name was – ?’ ‘Rivington. There’s a possible channel of inquiry there. In fact, I think we ought to follow it up.’ ‘We will. Very well, Carstairs comes down to Staverley with the Rivingtons. Now, is there anything in that?’ ‘You mean did he get them to bring him down here deliberately?’ ‘That’s what I mean. Or was it just a casual chance? Was he brought down here by them and did he then come across the girl by accident just as I did? I presume he knew her before or he wouldn’t have had her photograph on him.’ ‘The alternative being,’ said Frankie thoughtfully, ‘that he was already on the track of Nicholson and his gang.’ ‘And used the Rivingtons as a means of getting to this part of the world naturally?’ ‘That’s quite a possible theory,’ said Frankie. ‘He may have been on the track of this gang.’ ‘Or simply on the track of the girl.’ ‘The girl?’ ‘Yes. She may have been abducted. He may have come over to England to find her.’ ‘Well, but if he had tracked her down to Staverley, why should he go off to Wales?’ ‘Obviously, there’s a lot we don’t know yet,’ said Bobby.
‘Evans,’ said Frankie thoughtfully. ‘We don’t get any clues as to Evans. The Evans part of it must have to do with Wales.’ They were both silent for a moment or two. Then Frankie woke up to her surroundings.
‘My dear, we’re actually at Putney Hill. It seems like five minutes. Where are we going and what are we doing?’ ‘That’s for you to say. I don’t even know why we’ve come up to town.’ ‘The journey to town was only an excuse for getting a talk with you. I couldn’t very well risk being seen walking the lanes at Staverley deep in conversation with my chauffeur. I used the pseudo-letter from Father as an excuse for driving up to town and talking to you on the way and even that was nearly wrecked by Bassington-ffrench coming too.’ ‘That would have torn it severely.’ ‘Not really. We’d have dropped him wherever he liked and then we’d have gone on to Brook Street and talked there. I think we’d better do that, anyway. Your garage place may be watched.’ Bobby agreed and related the episode of the inquiries made about him at Marchbolt.
‘We’ll go to the Derwents’ town residence,’ said Frankie.
‘There’s no one there but my maid and a couple of caretakers.’ They drove to Brook Street. Frankie rang the bell and was admitted, Bobby remaining outside. Presently Frankie opened the door again and beckoned him in. They went upstairs to the big drawing-room and pulled up some of the blinds and removed the swathing from one of the sofas.
‘There’s one other thing I forgot to tell you,’ said Frankie.
‘On the 16th, the day you were poisoned, Bassingtonffrench was at Staverley, but Nicholson was away – supposedly at a conference in London. And his car is a dark-blue Talbot.’ ‘And he has access to morphia,’ said Bobby.
They exchanged significant glances.
‘It’s not exactly evidence, I suppose,’ said Bobby, ‘but it fits in nicely.’ Frankie went to a side table and returned with a telephone directory.
‘What are you going to do?’ ‘I’m looking up the name Rivington.’ She turned pages rapidly.
‘A. Rivington & Sons, Builders. B. A. C. Rivington, Dental Surgeon. D. Rivington, Shooters Hill, I think not. Miss Florence Rivington. Col. H. Rivington, D.S.O. – that’s more like it – Tite Street, Chelsea.’ She continued her search.