“It does rather,” said Tuppence. “Of course that woman may be mistaken. We will ask the waiter at dinner. There can’t be very many people here just at this time of year.”
This time it was Tuppence who opened the attack.
“Can you tell me if a friend of mine was here last Tuesday?” she asked the waiter with an engaging smile. “A Miss Drake, wearing a frock all over pansies I believe.” She produced a photograph. “This lady.”
The waiter broke into immediate smiles of recognition.
“Yes, yes, Miss Drake. I remember her very well. She told me she came from Australia.”
“She dined here?”
“Yes. It was last Tuesday. She asked me if there was anything to do afterwards in the town.”
“Yes?”
“I told her the theatre, the Pavilion, but in the end she decided not to go and she stayed here listening to our orchestra.”
“Oh damn,” said Tommy under his breath.
“You don’t remember what time she had dinner, do you?” said Tuppence.
“She came down a little late. It must have been about eight o’clock.”
“Damn, Blast, and Curse,” said Tuppence as she and Tommy left the dining-room. “Tommy, this is all going wrong. It seemed so clear and lovely.”
“Well, I suppose we ought to have known it wouldn’t all be plain sailing.”
“Is there any train she could have taken after that I wonder?”
“Not one that would have landed her in London in time to go to the Savoy.”
“Well,” said Tuppence, “as a last hope I am going to talk to the chambermaid. Una Drake had a room on the same floor as ours.”
The chambermaid was a voluble and informative woman. Yes, she remembered the young lady quite well. That was her picture right enough. A very nice young lady, very merry and talkative. Had told her a lot about Australia and the kangaroos.
The young lady rang the bell about half past nine and asked for her bottle to be filled and put in her bed and also to be called the next morning at half past seven-with coffee instead of tea.
“You did call her and she was in bed?” asked Tuppence,
The chambermaid stared at her.
“Why, yes Ma’am, of course.”
“Oh, I only wondered if she was doing exercises or anything,” said Tuppence, wildly. “So many people do in the early morning.”
“Well, that seems cast iron enough,” said Tommy, when the chambermaid had departed. “There is only one conclusion to be drawn from it. It is the London side of the thing that must be faked.”
“Mr. le Marchant must be a more accomplished liar than we thought,” said Tuppence.
“We have a way of checking his statements,” said Tommy. “He said there were people sitting at the next table whom Una knew slightly. What was their name-Oglander, that was it. We must hunt up these Oglanders and we ought also to make inquiries at Miss Drake’s flat in Clarges Street.”
The following morning they paid their bill and departed somewhat crestfallen.
Hunting out the Oglanders was fairly easy with the aid of the telephone book. Tuppence this time took the offensive and assumed the character of a representative of a new illustrated paper. She called on Mrs. Oglander asking for a few details of their “smart” supper party at the Savoy on Tuesday evening. These details Mrs. Oglander was only too willing to supply. Just as she was leaving Tuppence added carelessly: “Let me see, wasn’t Miss Una Drake sitting at the table next you? Is it really true that she is engaged to the Duke of Perth? You know her, of course.”
“I know her slightly,” said Mrs. Oglander. “A very charming girl I believe. Yes, she was sitting at the next table to ours with Mr. le Marchant. My girls know her better than I do.”
Tuppence’s next port of call was the flat in Clarges Street.
Here she was greeted by Miss Mariory Leicester, the friend with whom Miss Drake shared a flat.
“Do tell me what all this is about?” asked Miss Leicester plaintively. “Una has some deep game on and I don’t know what it is. Of course she slept here on Tuesday night.”