“You won’t find it,” said Sir Arthur. “I know Bingo Hale.”
Apologising to Tuppence for disturbing her, they took their leave.
Late that evening, there was a ring at the bell, and somewhat to the astonishment of the young pair, Inspector Marriot once more walked in.
“I thought Blunt’s Brilliant Detectives would like to hear the latest developments,” he said, with a hint of a smile.
“They would,” said Tommy. “Have a drink?”
He placed materials hospitably at Inspector Marriot’s elbow.
“It’s a clear case,” said the latter, after a minute or two. “Dagger was the lady’s own-the idea was to have made it look like suicide, evidently, but thanks to you two being on the spot, that didn’t come off. We’ve found plenty of letters -they’d been carrying on together for some time, that’s clear-without Sir Arthur tumbling to it. Then we found the last link-”
“The last what?” said Tuppence sharply.
“The last link in the chain-that fragment of the Daily Leader. It was torn from the dress he wore-fits exactly. Oh! yes, it’s a perfectly clear case. By the way, I brought round a photograph of those two exhibits-I thought they might interest you. It’s very seldom that you get such a perfectly clear case.”
“Tommy,” said Tuppence, when her husband returned from showing the Scotland Yard man out. “Why do you think Inspector Marriot keeps repeating that it’s a perfectly clear case?”
“I don’t know. Smug satisfaction, I suppose.”
“Not a bit of it. He’s trying to get us irritated. You know, Tommy, butchers, for instance, know something about meat, don’t they?”
“I should say so, but what on earth-”
“And in the same way, greengrocers know all about vegetables, and fishermen about fish. Detectives, professional detectives, must know all about criminals. They know the real thing when they see it-and they know when it isn’t the real thing. Marriot’s expert knowledge tells him that Captain Hale isn’t a criminal-but all the facts are dead against him. As a last resource Marriot is egging us on, hoping against hope that some little detail or other will come back to us- something that happened last night-which will throw a different light on things. Tommy, why shouldn’t it be suicide, after all?”
“Remember what she said to you.”
“I know-but take that a different way. It was Bingo’s doing-his conduct that drove her to kill herself. It’s just possible.”
“Just. But it doesn’t explain that fragment of newspaper.”
“Let’s have a look at Marriot’s photographs. I forgot to ask him what Hale’s account of the matter was.”
“I asked him that in the hall just now. Hale declared he had never spoken to Lady Merivale at the show. Says somebody shoved a note into his hand which said: “Don’t try and speak to me to-night. Arthur suspects.” He couldn’t produce the piece of paper, though, and it doesn’t sound a very likely story. Anyway, you and I know he was with her at the Ace of Spades because we saw him.”
Tuppence nodded and pored over the two photographs. One was a tiny fragment with the legend DAILY LE-and the rest torn off. The other was the front sheet of the Daily Leader with the small round tear at the top of it. There was no doubt about it. The two fitted together perfectly.
“What are all those marks down the side?” asked Tommy.
“Stitches,” said Tuppence. “Where is was sewn to the others, you know.”
“I thought it might be a new scheme of dots,” said Tommy. Then he gave a slight shiver. “My word, Tuppence, how creepy it makes one feel. To think that you and I were discussing dots and puzzling over that advertisement all as lighthearted as anything.”
Tuppence did not answer. Tommy looked at her, and was startled to observe that she was staring ahead of her, her mouth slightly open, and a bewildered expression on her face.
“Tuppence,” said Tommy gently, shaking her by the arm. “What’s the matter with you? Are you just going to have a stroke or something?”
But Tuppence remained motionless. Presently she said in a far away voice.
“Denis Riordan.”
“Eh?” said Tommy staring.
“It’s just as you said. One simple innocent remark! Find me all this week’s Daily Leaders.”