“Did you see her when she came in?”
“No, I had gone to bed. She has got her own latch key, of course. She came in about one o’clock, I believe.”
“When did you see her?”
“Oh, the next morning about nine-or perhaps it was nearer ten.”
As Tuppence left the flat she almost collided with a tall, gaunt female who was entering.
“Excuse me, Miss, I’m sure,” said the gaunt female.
“Do you work here?” asked Tuppence.
“Yes, Miss, I come daily.”
“What time do you get here in the morning?”
“Nine o’clock is my time, Miss.”
Tuppence slipped a hurried half crown into the gaunt female’s hand.
“Was Miss Drake here last Tuesday morning when you arrived?”
“Why yes, Miss, indeed she was. Fast asleep in her bed and hardly woke up when I brought her in her tea.”
“Oh, thank you,” said Tuppence and went disconsolately down the stairs.
She had arranged to meet Tommy for lunch in a small Restaurant in Soho and there they compared notes.
“I have seen that fellow, Rice. It is quite true he did see Una Drake in the distance at Torquay.”
“Well,” said Tuppence, “we have checked these alibis all right. Here, give me a bit of paper and a pencil, Tommy. Let us put it down neatly like all detectives do.”
1.30 Una Drake seen in Luncheon Car of train.
4 o’clock Arrives at Castle Hotel.
5 o’clock Seen by Mr. Rice.
8 o’clock Seen dining at Hotel.
9.30 Asks for hot water bottle.
11:30 Seen at Savoy with Mr. le Marchant.
7.30a.m. Called by chambermaid at Castle Hotel.
9 o’clock Called by charwoman at flat at Clarges Street.
They looked at each other.
“Well, it looks to me as if Blunt’s Brilliant Detectives are beat,” said Tommy.
“Oh, we mustn’t give up,” said Tuppence. “Somebody must be lying!”
“The queer thing is that it strikes me nobody was lying. They all seemed perfectly truthful and straightforward.”
“Yet there must be a flaw. We know there is. I think of all sorts of things like private aeroplanes but that doesn’t really get us any forwarder.”
“I am inclined to the theory of an astral body.”
“Well,” said Tuppence, “the only thing to do is to sleep on it. Your subconscious works in your sleep.”
“H’m,” said Tommy. “If your subconscious provides you with a perfectly good answer to this riddle by tomorrow morning, I take off my hat to it.”
They were very silent all that evening. Again and again Tuppence reverted to the paper of times. She wrote things on bits of paper. She murmured to herself, she sought perplexedly through Rail Guides. But in the end they both rose to go to bed with no faint glimmer of light on the problem.
“This is very disheartening,” said Tommy.
“One of the most miserable evenings I have ever spent,” said Tuppence.
“We ought to have gone to a Music Hall,” said Tommy. “A few good jokes about mothers-in-law and twins and bottles of beer would have done us no end of good.”
“No, you will see this concentration will work in the end,” said Tuppence. “How busy our subconscious will have to be in the next eight hours!” And on this hopeful note they went to bed.
“Well,” said Tommy next morning, “has the subconscious worked?”
“I have got an idea,” said Tuppence.
“You have. What sort of an idea?”
“Well, rather a funny idea. Not at all like anything I have ever read in detective stories. As a matter of fact it is an idea that you put into my head.”
“Then it must be a good idea,” said Tommy firmly. “Come on, Tuppence, out with it.”
“I shall have to send a cable to verify it,” said Tuppence. “No, I am not going to tell you. It’s a perfectly wild idea but it’s the only thing that fits the facts.”
“Well,” said Tommy, “I must away to the office. A roomful of disappointed clients must not wait in vain. I leave this case in the hands of my promising subordinate.”
Tuppence nodded cheerfully.
She did not put in an appearance at the office all day. When Tommy returned that evening about half past five it was to find a wildly exultant Tuppence awaiting him.