The Complete Tommy & Tuppence Collection (43 page)

But Tuppence only laughed. She was in high spirits.

It was a most successful evening. The crowds, the music, the fantastic dresses—everything conspired to make the young couple enjoy themselves. Tommy forgot his role of the bored husband dragged out against his will.

At ten minutes to twelve they drove off in the car to the famous—or infamous—Ace of Spades. As Tuppence had said, it was an underground den, mean and tawdry in appearance, but it was nevertheless crowded with couples in fancy dress. There were closed-in booths round the walls, and Tommy and Tuppence secured one of these. They left the doors purposely a little ajar so that they could see what was going on outside.

“I wonder which they are—our people, I mean,” said Tuppence. “What about that Columbine over there with the red Mephistopheles?”

“I fancy the wicked Mandarin and the lady who calls herself a Battleship—more of a fast Cruiser, I should say.”

“Isn't he witty?” said Tuppence. “All done on a little drop of drink! Who's this coming in dressed as the Queen of Hearts—rather a good get-up, that.”

The girl in question passed into the booth next to them, accompanied by her escort, who was “the gentleman dressed in newspaper” from
Alice in Wonderland.
They were both wearing masks—it seemed to be rather a common custom at the Ace of Spades.

“I'm sure we're in a real den of iniquity,” said Tuppence with a pleased face. “Scandals all round us. What a row everyone makes.”

A cry, as of protest, rang out from the booth next door and was covered by a man's loud laugh. Everybody was laughing and singing. The shrill voices of the girls rose above the booming of their male escorts.

“What about that shepherdess?” demanded Tommy. “The one with the comic Frenchman. They might be our little lot.”

“Any one might be,” confessed Tuppence. “I'm not going to bother. The great thing is that we are enjoying ourselves.”

“I could have enjoyed myself better in another costume,” grumbled Tommy. “You've no idea of the heat of this one.”

“Cheer up,” said Tuppence. “You look lovely.”

“I'm glad of that,” said Tommy. “It's more than you do. You're the funniest little guy I've ever seen.”

“Will you keep a civil tongue in your head, Denny, my boy. Hullo, the gentleman in newspaper is leaving his lady alone. Where's he going, do you think?”

“Going to hurry up the drinks, I expect,” said Tommy. “I wouldn't mind doing the same thing.”

“He's a long time doing it,” said Tuppence, when four or five minutes had passed. “Tommy, would you think me an awful ass—” She paused.

Suddenly she jumped up.

“Call me an ass if you like. I'm going in next door.”

“Look here, Tuppence—you can't—”

“I've a feeling there's something wrong. I
know
there is. Don't try and stop me.”

She passed quickly out of their own booth, and Tommy followed her. The doors of the one next door were closed. Tuppence pushed them apart and went in, Tommy on her heels.

The girl dressed as the Queen of Hearts sat in the corner leaning up against the wall in a queer huddled position. Her eyes regarded them steadily through her mask, but she did not move. Her dress was carried out in a bold design of red and white, but on the left hand side the pattern seemed to have got mixed. There was more red than there should have been. . . .

With a cry Tuppence hurried forward. At the same time, Tommy saw what she had seen, the hilt of a jewelled dagger just below the heart. Tuppence dropped on her knees by the girl's side.

“Quick, Tommy, she's still alive. Get hold of the manager and make him get a doctor at once.”

“Right. Mind you don't touch the handle of that dagger, Tuppence.”

“I'll be careful. Go quickly.”

Tommy hurried out, pulling the doors to behind him. Tuppence passed her arm round the girl. The latter made a faint gesture, and Tuppence realised that she wanted to get rid of the mask. Tuppence unfastened it gently. She saw a fresh, flower-like face, and wide starry eyes that were full of horror, suffering, and a kind of dazed bewilderment.

“My dear,” said Tuppence, very gently. “Can you speak at all? Will you tell me, if you can, who did this?”

She felt the eyes fix themselves on her face. The girl was sighing, the deep palpitating sighs of a failing heart. And still she looked steadily at Tuppence. Then her lips parted.

“Bingo did it—” she said in a strained whisper.

Then her hands relaxed, and she seemed to nestle down on Tuppence's shoulder.

Tommy came in, two men with him. The bigger of the two came forward with an air of authority, the word doctor written all over him.

Tuppence relinquished her burden.

“She's dead, I'm afraid,” she said with a catch in her voice.

The doctor made a swift examination.

“Yes,” he said. “Nothing to be done. We had better leave things as they are till the police come. How did the thing happen?”

Tuppence explained rather haltingly, slurring over her reasons for entering the booth.

“It's a curious business,” said the doctor. “You heard nothing?”

“I heard her give a kind of cry, but then the man laughed. Naturally I didn't think—”

“Naturally not,” agreed the doctor. “And the man wore a mask you say. You wouldn't recognise him?”

“I'm afraid not. Would you, Tommy?”

“No. Still there is his costume.”

“The first thing will be to identify this poor lady,” said the doctor. “After that, well, I suppose the police will get down to things pretty quickly. It ought not to be a difficult case. Ah, here they come.”

Six

T
HE
G
ENTLEMAN
D
RESSED
IN
N
EWSPAPER

I
t was after three o'clock when, weary and sick at heart, the husband and wife reached home. Several hours passed before Tuppence could sleep. She lay tossing from side to side, seeing always that flower-like face with the horror-stricken eyes.

The dawn was coming in through the shutters when Tuppence finally dropped off to sleep. After the excitement, she slept heavily and dreamlessly. It was broad daylight when she awoke to find Tommy, up and dressed, standing by the bedside, shaking her gently by the arm.

“Wake up, old thing. Inspector Marriot and another man are here and want to see you.”

“What time is it?”

“Just on eleven. I'll get Alice to bring you your tea right away.”

“Yes, do. Tell Inspector Marriot I'll be there in ten minutes.”

A quarter of an hour later, Tuppence came hurrying into the sitting room. Inspector Marriot, who was sitting looking very straight and solemn, rose to greet her.

“Good morning, Mrs. Beresford. This is Sir Arthur Merivale.”

Tuppence shook hands with a tall thin man with haggard eyes and greying hair.

“It's about this sad business last night,” said Inspector Marriot. “I want Sir Arthur to hear from your own lips what you told me—the words the poor lady said before she died. Sir Arthur has been very hard to convince.”

“I can't believe,” said the other, “and I won't believe, that Bingo Hale ever hurt a hair of Vere's head.”

Inspector Marriot went on.

“We've made some progress since last night, Mrs. Beresford,” he said. “First of all we managed to identify the lady as Lady Merivale. We communicated with Sir Arthur here. He recognised the body at once, and was horrified beyond words, of course. Then I asked him if he knew anyone called Bingo.”

“You must understand, Mrs. Beresford,” said Sir Arthur, “that Captain Hale, who is known to all his friends as Bingo, is the dearest pal I have. He practically lives with us. He was staying at my house when they arrested him this morning. I cannot but believe that you have made a mistake—it was not his name that my wife uttered.”

“There is no possibility of mistake,” said Tuppence gently. “She said, ‘Bingo did it—' ”

“You see, Sir Arthur,” said Marriot.

The unhappy man sank into a chair and covered his face with his hands.

“It's incredible. What earthly motive could there be? Oh, I know your idea, Inspector Marriot. You think Hale was my wife's lover, but even if that were so—which I don't admit for a moment—what motive was there for killing her?”

Inspector Marriot coughed.

“It's not a very pleasant thing to say, sir. But Captain Hale has been paying a lot of attention to a certain young American lady of late—a young lady with a considerable amount of money. If Lady Merivale liked to turn nasty, she could probably stop his marriage.”

“This is outrageous, Inspector.”

Sir Arthur sprang angrily to his feet. The other calmed him with a soothing gesture.

“I beg your pardon, I'm sure, Sir Arthur. You say that you and Captain Hale both decided to attend this show. Your wife was away on a visit at the time, and you had no idea that she was to be there?”

“Not the least idea.”

“Just show him that advertisement you told me about, Mrs. Beresford.”

Tuppence complied.

“That seems to me clear enough. It was inserted by Captain Hale to catch your wife's eye. They had already arranged to meet there. But you only made up your mind to go the day before, hence it was necessary to warn her. That is the explanation of the phrase, ‘Necessary to finesse the King.' You ordered your costume from a theatrical firm at the last minute, but Captain Hale's was a home-made affair. He went as the Gentleman dressed in Newspaper. Do you know, Sir Arthur, what we found clasped in the dead lady's hand? A fragment torn from a newspaper. My men have orders to take Captain Hale's costume away with them from your house. I shall find it at the Yard when I get back. If there's a tear in it corresponding to the missing piece—well, it'll be the end of the case.”

“You won't find it,” said Sir Arthur. “I know Bingo Hale.”

Apologising to Tuppence for disturbing her, they took their leave.

Late that evening there was a ring at the bell, and somewhat to the astonishment of the young pair Inspector Marriot once more walked in.

“I thought Blunt's Brilliant Detectives would like to hear the latest developments,” he said, with a hint of a smile.

“They would,” said Tommy. “Have a drink?”

He placed materials hospitably at Inspector Marriot's elbow.

“It's a clear case,” said the latter, after a minute or two. “Dagger was the lady's own—the idea was to have made it look like suicide evidently, but thanks to you two being on the spot, that didn't come off. We've found plenty of letters—they'd been carrying on together for some time, that's clear—without Sir Arthur tumbling to it. Then we found the last link—”

“The last what?” said Tuppence sharply.

“The last link in the chain—that fragment of the
Daily Leader.
It was torn from the dress he wore—fits exactly. Oh, yes, it's a perfectly clear case. By the way, I brought round a photograph of those two exhibits—I thought they might interest you. It's very seldom that you get such a perfectly clear case.”

“Tommy,” said Tuppence, when her husband returned from showing the Scotland Yard man out, “why do you think Inspector Marriot keeps repeating that it's a perfectly clear case?”

“I don't know. Smug satisfaction, I suppose.”

“Not a bit of it. He's trying to get us irritated. You know, Tommy, butchers, for instance, know something about meat, don't they?”

“I should say so, but what on earth—”

“And in the same way, greengrocers know all about vegetables, and fishermen about fish. Detectives, professional detectives, must know all about criminals. They know the real thing when they see it—and they know when it isn't the real thing. Marriot's expert knowledge tells him that Captain Hale isn't a criminal—but all the facts are dead against him. As a last resource Marriot is egging us on, hoping against hope that some little detail or other will come back to us—something that happened last night—which will throw a different light on things. Tommy, why shouldn't it be suicide, after all?”

“Remember what she said to you.”

“I know—but take that a different way. It was Bingo's doing—his conduct that drove her to kill herself. It's just possible.”

“Just. But it doesn't explain that fragment of newspaper.”

“Let's have a look at Marriot's photographs. I forgot to ask him what Hale's account of the matter was.”

“I asked him that in the hall just now. Hale declared he had never spoken to Lady Merivale at the show. Says somebody shoved a note into his hand which said, “Don't try and speak to me tonight. Arthur suspects.” He couldn't produce the piece of paper, though, and it doesn't sound a very likely story. Anyway, you and I
know
he was with her at the Ace of Spades, because we saw him.”

Tuppence nodded and pored over the two photographs.

One was a tiny fragment with the legend DAILY LE—and the rest torn off. The other was the front sheet of the
Daily Leader
with the small round tear at the top of it. There was no doubt about it. Those two fitted together perfectly.

“What are all those marks down the side?” asked Tommy.

“Stitches,” said Tuppence. “Where it was sewn to the others, you know.”

“I thought it might be a new scheme of dots,” said Tommy. Then he gave a slight shiver. “My word, Tuppence, how creepy it makes one feel. To think that you and I were discussing dots and puzzling over that advertisement—all as lighthearted as anything.”

Tuppence did not answer. Tommy looked at her and was startled to observe that she was staring ahead of her, her mouth slightly open, and a bewildered expression on her face.