Detectives and Young Adventurers: The Complete Short Stories

‘Except my daughter,’ agreed the Colonel. ‘She volunteered at once to go and put the case before you.’

Tommy rose.

‘We will do our best to give you satisfaction, Colonel,’ he said. ‘I should like to see the drawing-room, and the table on which the pendant was laid down. I should also like to ask Mrs Betts a few questions. After that, I will interview the servants – or rather my assistant, Miss Robinson, will do so.’

He felt his nerve quailing before the terrors of questioning the servants.

Colonel Kingston Bruce threw open the door and led them across the hall. As he did so, a remark came to them clearly through the open door of the room they were approaching and the voice that uttered it was that of the girl who had come to see them that morning.

‘You know perfectly well Mother,’ she was saying, ‘that she did bring home a teaspoon in her muff.’

In another minute they were being introduced to Mrs Kingston Bruce, a plaintive lady with a languid manner. Miss Kingston Bruce acknowledged their presence with a short inclination of the head. Her face was more sullen than ever.

Mrs Kingston Bruce was voluble.

‘– but I know who I think took it,’ she ended. ‘That dreadful socialist young man. He loves the Russians and the Germans and hates the English – what else can you expect?’

‘He never touched it,’ said Miss Kingston Bruce fiercely. ‘I was watching him – all the time. I couldn’t have failed to see if he had.’

She looked at them defiantly with her chin up.

Tommy created a diversion by asking for an interview with Mrs Betts. When Mrs Kingston Bruce had departed accompanied by her husband and daughter to find Mrs Betts, he whistled thoughtfully.

‘I wonder,’ he said gently, ‘who it was who had a teaspoon in her muff?’

‘Just what I was thinking,’ replied Tuppence.

Mrs Betts, followed by her husband, burst into the room. She was a big woman with a determined voice. Mr Hamilton Betts looked dyspeptic and subdued.

‘I understand, Mr Blunt, that you are a private inquiry agent, and one who hustles things through at a great rate?’

‘Hustle,’ said Tommy, ‘is my middle name, Mrs Betts. Let me ask you a few questions.’

Thereafter things proceeded rapidly. Tommy was shown the damaged pendant, the table on which it had lain, and Mr Betts emerged from his taciturnity to mention the value, in dollars, of the stolen pearl.

And withal, Tommy felt an irritating certainty that he was not getting on.

‘I think that will do,’ he said, at length. ‘Miss Robinson, will you kindly fetch the special photographic apparatus from the hall?’

Miss Robinson complied.

‘A little invention of my own,’ said Tommy. ‘In appearance, you see, it is just like an ordinary camera.’

He had some slight satisfaction in seeing that the Betts were impressed.

He photographed the pendant, the table on which it had lain, and took several general views of the apartment. Then ‘Miss Robinson’ was delegated to interview the servants, and in view of the eager expectancy on the faces of Colonel Kingston Bruce and Mrs Betts, Tommy felt called upon to say a few authoritative words.

‘The position amounts to this,’ he said. ‘Either the pearl is still in the house, or it is not still in the house.’

‘Quite so,’ said the Colonel with more respect than was, perhaps, quite justified by the nature of the remark.

‘If it is not in the house, it may be anywhere – but if it is in the house, it must necessarily be concealed somewhere –’

‘And a search must be made,’ broke in Colonel Kingston Bruce. ‘Quite so. I give you carte blanche, Mr Blunt. Search the house from attic to cellar.’

‘Oh! Charles,’ murmured Mrs Kingston Bruce tearfully, ‘do you think that is wise? The servants won’t like it. I’m sure they’ll leave.’

‘We will search their quarters last,’ said Tommy soothingly. ‘The thief is sure to have hidden the gem in the most unlikely place.’

‘I seem to have read something of the kind,’ agreed the Colonel.

‘Quite so,’ said Tommy. ‘You probably remember the case of Rex v Bailey, which created a precedent.’

‘Oh – er – yes,’ said the Colonel, looking puzzled.

‘Now, the most unlikely place is in the apartment of Mrs Betts,’ continued Tommy.

‘My! Wouldn’t that be too cute?’ said Mrs Betts admiringly.

Without more ado she took him up to her room, where Tommy once more made use of the special photographic apparatus.

Presently Tuppence joined him there.

‘You have no objection, I hope, Mrs Betts, to my assistant’s looking through your wardrobe?’

‘Why, not at all. Do you need me here any longer?’

Tommy assured her that there was no need to detain her, and Mrs Betts departed.

‘We might as well go on bluffing it out,’ said Tommy. ‘But personally I don’t believe we’ve a dog’s chance of finding the thing. Curse you and your twenty-four hours’ stunt, Tuppence.’

‘Listen,’ said Tuppence. ‘The servants are all right, I’m sure, but I managed to get something out of the French maid. It seems that when Lady Laura was staying here a year ago, she went out to tea with some friends of the Kingston Bruces, and when she got home a teaspoon fell out of her muff. Everyone thought it must have fallen in by accident. But, talking about similar robberies, I got hold of a lot more. Lady Laura is always staying about with people. She hasn’t got a bean, I gather, and she’s out for comfortable quarters with people to whom a title still means something. It may be a coincidence – or it may be something more, but five distinct thefts have taken place whilst she has been staying in various houses, sometimes trivial things, sometimes valuable jewels.’

‘Whew!’ said Tommy, and gave vent to a prolonged whistle. ‘Where’s the old bird’s room, do you know?’

‘Just across the passage.’

‘Then I think, I rather think, that we’ll just slip across and investigate.’

The room opposite stood with its door ajar. It was a spacious apartment, with white enamelled fitments and rose pink curtains. An inner door led to a bathroom. At the door of this appeared a slim, dark girl, very neatly dressed.

Tuppence checked the exclamation of astonishment on the girl’s lips.

‘This is Elise, Mr Blunt,’ she said primly. ‘Lady Laura’s maid.’

Tommy stepped across the threshold of the bathroom, and approved inwardly its sumptuous and up-to-date fittings. He set to work to dispel the wide stare of suspicion on the French girl’s face.

‘You are busy with your duties, eh, Mademoiselle Elise?’