Partners in Crime

‘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?’

‘Yes, Monsieur, I clean Milady’s bath.’

‘Well, perhaps you’ll help me with some photography instead. I have a special kind of camera here, and I am photographing the interiors of all the rooms in this house.’

He was interrupted by the communicating door to the bedroom banging suddenly behind him. Elise jumped at the sound.

‘What did that?’

‘It must have been the wind,’ said Tuppence.

‘We will come into the other room,’ said Tommy.

Elise went to open the door for them, but the door knob rattled aimlessly.

‘What’s the matter?’ said Tommy sharply.

‘Ah, Monsieur, but somebody must have locked it on the other side.’ She caught up a towel and tried again. But this time the door handle turned easily enough, and the door swung open.

‘Voilà ce qui est curieux. It must have been stuck,’ said Elise.

There was no one in the bedroom.

Tommy fetched his apparatus. Tuppence and Elise worked under his orders. But again and again his glance went back to the communicating door.

‘I wonder,’ he said between his teeth – ‘I wonder why that door stuck?’

He examined it minutely, shutting and opening it. It fitted perfectly.

‘One picture more,’ he said with a sigh. ‘Will you loop back that rose curtain, Mademoiselle Elise? Thank you. Just hold it so.’