“Well done, Tuppence,” said Tommy, moving forward. “Let me give you a hand. I shouldn’t struggle if I were you, Miss O’Hara-or do you prefer to be called Miss March?”
“This is Inspector Grace, Tommy,” said Tuppence. “As soon as I read the note you left I rang up Scotland Yard, and Inspector Grace and another man met me outside here.”
“Very glad to get hold of this gentleman,” said the Inspector, indicating his prisoner. “He’s wanted badly. But we’ve never had cause to suspect this place-thought it was a genuine beauty shop.”
“You see,” explained Tommy gently. “We do have to be so very careful! Why should anyone want the Ambassador’s bag for an hour or so? I put the question the other way round. Supposing it was the other bag that was the important one. Someone wanted that bag to be in the Ambassador’s possession for an hour or so. Much more illuminating! Diplomatic luggage is not subjected to the indignities of a Customs examination. Clearly smuggling. But smuggling of what? Nothing too bulky. At once I thought of drugs. Then that picturesque comedy was enacted in my office. They’d seen my advertisement and wanted to put me off the scent-or failing that, out of the way altogether. But I happened to notice an expression of blank dismay in the charming lady’s eyes when Albert did his lasso act. That didn’t fit in very well with her supposed part. The stranger’s attack was meant to assure my confidence in her. I played the part of the credulous sleuth with all my might-swallowed her rather impossible story and permitted her to lure me here, carefully leaving behind full instructions for dealing with the situation. Under various pretexts I delayed our arrival, so as to give you all plenty of time.”
Cicely March was looking at him with a stony expression.
“You are mad. What do you expect to find here?”
“Remembering that Richards saw a tin of bath salts, what do you say about beginning with the bath salts, eh Inspector?”
“A very sound idea, sir.”
He picked up one of the dainty pink tins, and emptied it on the table. The girl laughed.
“Genuine crystals, eh?” said Tommy. “Nothing more deadly than carbonate of soda?”
“Try the safe,” suggested Tuppence.
There was a small wall safe in the corner. The key was in the lock. Tommy swung it open and gave a shout of satisfaction. The back of the safe opened out into a big recess in the wall, and that recess was stacked with the same elegant tins of bath salts. Rows and rows of them. He took one out and prised up the lid. The top showed the same pink crystals, but underneath was a fine white powder.
The Inspector uttered an ejaculation.
“You’ve got it, sir. Ten to one, that tin’s full of pure cocaine. We knew there was a distributing area somewhere round here, handy to the West End, but we haven’t been able to get a clue to it. This is a fine coup of yours, sir.”
“Rather a triumph for Blunt’s Brilliant Detectives,” said Tommy to Tuppence, as they emerged into the street together. “It’s a great thing to be a married man. Your persistent schooling has at last taught me to recognize peroxide when I see it. Golden hair has got to be the genuine article to take me in. We will concoct a businesslike letter to the Ambassador, informing him that the matter has been dealt with satisfactorily. And now, my dear fellow, what about tea, and lots of hot buttered muffins?”
23. THE MAN WHO WAS No.16
Tommy and Tuppence were closeted with the Chief in his private room. His commendation had been warm and sincere.
“You have succeeded admirably. Thanks to you we have laid our hands on no less than five very interesting personages, and from them we have received much valuable information. Meanwhile I learn from a creditable source that headquarters in Moscow have taken alarm at the failure of their agents to report. I think, that in spite of all our precautions, they have begun to suspect that all is not well at what I may call the distributing centre-the office of Mr. Theodore Blunt-the International Detective Bureau.”