“Quite so, Miss Hargreaves.”
“Dr. Burton put it down to Socialist agitation-rather absurdly, I thought. But there are one or two malcontents in Thurnly village, and it seemed possible that they might have had something to do with it. Dr. Burton was very keen that I should put the whole thing in the hands of the police.”
“A very natural suggestion,” said Tommy. “But you have not done so, I gather, Miss Hargreaves?”
“No,” admitted the girl. “I hate the fuss and the publicity that would ensue-and you see, I know our local Inspector. I can never imagine him finding out anything! I have often seen your advertisements, and I told Dr. Burton that it would be much better to call in a private detective.”
“I see.”
“You say a great deal about discretion in your advertisement. I take that to mean-that-that-well, that you would not make anything public without my consent?”
Tommy looked at her curiously, but it was Tuppence who spoke.
“I think,” she said quietly, “that it would be as well if Miss Hargreaves told us everything.”
She laid especial stress upon the last word, and Lois Hargreaves flushed nervously.
“Yes ” said Tommy quickly. “Miss Robinson is right. You must tell us everything.”
“You will not-” she hesitated.
“Everything you say is understood to be strictly in confidence.”
“Thank you. I know that I ought to have been quite frank with you. I have a reason for not going to the police. Mr. Blunt, that box of chocolates was sent by someone in our house!”
“How do you know that, Mademoiselle?”
“It’s very simple. I’ve got a habit of drawing a little silly thing-three fish intertwined-whenever I have a pencil in my hand. A parcel of silk stockings arrived from a certain shop in London not long ago. We were at the breakfast table. I’d just been marking something in the newspaper, and without thinking, I began to draw my silly little fish on the label of the parcel before cutting the string and opening it. I thought no more about the matter, but when I was examining the piece of brown paper in which the chocolates had been sent, I caught sight of the corner of the original label-most of which had been torn off. My silly little drawing was on it.”
Tommy drew his chair forward.
“That is very serious. It creates, as you say, a very strong presumption that the sender of the chocolates is a member of your household. But you will forgive me if I say that I still do not see why that fact should render you indisposed to call in the police?”
Lois Hargreaves looked him squarely in the face.
“I will tell you, Mr. Blunt. I may want the whole thing hushed up.”
Tommy retired gracefully from the position.
“In that case,” he murmured, “we know where we are. I see, Miss Hargreaves, that you are not disposed to tell me who it is you suspect?”
“I suspect no one-but there are possibilities.”
“Quite so. Now will you describe the household to me in detail?”
“The servants, with the exception of the parlormaid, are all old ones who have been with us many years. I must explain to you, Mr. Blunt, that I was brought up by my Aunt, Lady Radclyffe, who was extremely wealthy. Her husband made a big fortune, and was knighted. It was he who bought Thurnly Grange, but he died two years after going there, and it was then that Lady Radclyffe sent for me to come and make my home with her. I was her only living relation. The other inmate of the house was Dennis Radclyffe, her husband’s nephew. I have always called him cousin, but of course he is really nothing of the kind. Aunt Lucy always said openly that she intended to leave her money, with the exception of a small provision for me, to Dennis. It was Radclyffe money, she said, and ought to go to a Radclyffe. However, when Dennis was twenty-two, she quarrelled violently with him-over some debts that he had run up, I think. When she died, a year later, I was astonished to find that she had made a will leaving all her money to me. It was, I know, a great blow to Dennis, and I felt very badly about it. I would have given him the money if he would have taken it, but it seems that that kind of thing can’t be done. However, as soon as I was twenty-one, I made a will leaving it all to him. That’s the least I can do. So if I’m run over by a motor, Dennis will come into his own.”