“We searched the only two that were big enough to contain a body. What is the next fact in chronological order?”
“You’ve missed one out-when the Missus and the bloke dressed up as a Hospital Nurse passed the waiter in the passage.”
“It must have been just before we came up in the lift,” said Tommy. “They must have had a narrow escape of meeting us face to face. Pretty quick work, that. I-”
He stopped.
“What is it, sir?”
“Be silent, mon ami. I have the kind of little idea-colossal, stupendous-that always comes sooner or later to Hercule Poirot. But if so-if that’s it-Oh! Lord, I hope I’m in time.”
He raced out of the Park, Albert hard on his heels, inquiring breathlessly as he ran. “What’s up, sir? I don’t understand.”
“That’s all right,” said Tommy. “You’re not supposed to. Hastings never did. If your grey cells weren’t of a very inferior order to mine, what fun do you think I should get out of this game? I’m talking damned rot-but I can’t help it. You’re a good lad, Albert. You know what Tuppence is worth-she’s worth a dozen of you and me.”
Thus talking breathlessly as he ran, Tommy reentered the portals of the Blitz. He caught sight of Evans, and drew him aside with a few hurried words. The two men entered the lift, Albert with them.
“Third floor,” said Tommy.
At the door of No. 318 they paused. Evans had a pass key, and used it forthwith. Without a word of warning, they walked straight into Mrs. Van Snyder’s bedroom. The lady was still lying on the bed, but was now arrayed in a becoming negligee. She stared at them in surprise.
“Pardon my failure to knock,” said Tommy, pleasantly. “But I want my wife. Do you mind getting off that bed?”
“I guess you’ve gone plumb crazy,” cried Mrs. Van Snyder.
Tommy surveyed her thoughtfully, his head on one side.
“Very artistic,” he pronounced. “But it won’t do. We looked under the bed-but not in it. I remember using that hiding-place myself when young. Horizontally across the bed, underneath the bolster. And that nice wardrobe trunk all ready to take away the body in later. But we were a bit too quick for you just now. You’d had time to dope Tuppence, put her under the bolster, and be gagged and bound by your accomplices next door, and I’ll admit we swallowed your story all right for the moment. But when one came to think it out-with order and method-impossible to drug a girl, dress her in boy’s clothes, gag and bind another woman, and change one’s own appearance-all in five minutes. Simply a physical impossibility. The Hospital Nurse and the boy were to be a decoy. We were to follow that trail, and Mrs. Van Snyder was to be a pitied victim. Just help the lady off the bed, will you, Evans? You have automatic? Good.”
Protesting shrilly, Mrs. Van Snyder was hauled from her place of repose. Tommy tore off the coverings and the bolster.
There, lying horizontally across the top of the bed was Tuppence, her eyes closed, and her face waxen. For a moment, Tommy felt a sudden dread, then he saw the slight rise and fall of her breast. She was drugged, not dead.
He turned to Albert and Evans.
“And now, Messieurs,” he said dramatically. “The final coup!”
With a swift unexpected gesture, he seized Mrs. Van Snyder by her elaborately dressed hair. It came off in his hand.
“As I thought,” said Tommy. “No. 16!”
It was about half an hour later when Tuppence opened her eyes and found a doctor and Tommy bending over her.
Over the events of the next quarter of an hour a decent veil had better be drawn, but after that period the doctor departed with the assurance that all was now well.
“Mon ami, Hastings,” said Tommy fondly. “How I rejoice that you are still alive.”
“Have we got No. 16?”
“Once more have I crushed him like an egg shell-In other words, Carter’s got him. The little grey cells! By the way, I’m raising Albert’s wages.”
“Tell me all about it.”