Partners in Crime. Agatha Christie
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yield no known reactions.’
‘The secret of them would be worth money, then?’
‘To unscrupulous persons, yes.’
‘And you suspect – whom?’
The doctor shrugged his massive shoulders.
‘As far as I can tell, the house was not entered forcibly from the outside. That seems to point to some member of my household, and yet I cannot believe –’ He broke off abruptly, then began again, his voice very grave.
‘Mr Blunt, I must place myself in your hands unreservedly. I dare not go to the police in the matter. Of my three servants I am almost entirely sure. They have served me long and faithfully. Still, one never knows. Then I have living with me my two nephews, Bertram and Henry. Henry is a good boy – a very good boy – he has never caused me any anxiety, an excellent hard-working young fellow. Bertram, I regret to say, is of quite a different character – wild, extravagant, and persistently idle.’
‘I see,’ said Tommy thoughtfully. ‘You suspect your nephew Bertram of being mixed up in this business. Now I don’t agree with you. I suspect the good boy – Henry.’
‘But why?’
‘Tradition. Precedent.’ Tommy waved his hand airily. ‘In my experience, the suspicious characters are always innocent – and vice versa, my dear sir. Yes, decidedly, I suspect Henry.’
‘Excuse me, Mr Blunt,’ said Tuppence, interrupting in a deferential tone. ‘Did I understand Dr Bower to say that these notes on – er – obscure alkaloids – are kept in the desk with the other papers?’
‘They are kept in the desk, my dear young lady, but in a secret drawer, the position of which is known only to myself. Hence they have so far defied the search.’
‘And what exactly do you want me to do, Dr Bower?’ asked Tommy. ‘Do you anticipate that a further search will be made?’
‘I do, Mr Blunt. I have every reason to believe so. This afternoon I received a telegram from a patient of mine whom I ordered to Bournemouth a few weeks ago. The telegram states that my patient is in a critical condition, and begs me to come down at once. Rendered suspicious by the events I have told you of, I myself despatched a telegram, prepaid, to the patient in question, and elicited the fact that he was in good health and had sent no summons to me of any kind. It occurred to me that if I pretended to have been taken in, and duly departed to Bournemouth, we should have a very good chance of finding the miscreants at work. They – or he – will doubtless wait until the household has retired to bed before commencing operations. I suggest that you should meet me outside my house at eleven o’clock this evening, and we will investigate the matter together.’
‘Hoping, in fact, to catch them in the act.’ Tommy drummed thoughtfully on the table with a paper-knife. ‘Your plan seems to me an excellent one, Dr Bower. I cannot see any hitch in it. Let me see, your address is –?’
‘The Larches, Hangman’s Lane – rather a lonely part, I am afraid. But we command magnificent views over the Heath.’
‘Quite so,’ said Tommy.
The visitor rose.
‘Then I shall expect you tonight, Mr Blunt. Outside The Larches at – shall we say, five minutes to eleven – to be on the safe side?’
‘Certainly. Five minutes to eleven. Good-afternoon, Dr Bower.’
Tommy rose, pressed a buzzer on his desk, and Albert appeared to show the client out. The doctor walked with a decided limp, but his powerful physique was evident in spite of it.
‘An ugly customer to tackle,’ murmured Tommy to himself. ‘Well, Tuppence, old girl, what do you think of it?’
‘I’ll tell you in one word,’ said Tuppence. ‘Clubfoot!’
‘What?’
‘I said Clubfoot! My study of the classics has not been in vain. Tommy, this thing’s a plant. Obscure alkaloids indeed – I never heard a weaker story.’
‘Even I did not find it very convincing,’ admitted her husband.
‘Did you see his eyes on the letter? Tommy, he’s one of the gang. They’ve got wise to the fact that you’re not the real Mr Blunt, and they’re out for our blood.’
‘In that case,’ said Tommy, opening the side cupboard and surveying his rows of books with an affectionate eye, ‘our role is easy to select. We are the brothers Okewood! And I am Desmond,’ he added firmly.
Tuppence shrugged her shoulders.
‘All right. Have it your own way. I’d as soon be Francis. Francis was much the more intelligent of the two. Desmond always gets into a mess, and Francis turns up as the gardener or something in the nick of time and saves the situation.’
‘Ah!’ said Tommy, ‘but I shall be a super Desmond. When I arrive at the Larches –’
Tuppence interrupted him unceremoniously.
‘You’re not going to Hampstead tonight?’
‘Why not?’
‘Walk into a trap with your eyes shut!’
‘No, my dear girl, walk into a trap with my eyes open. There’s a lot of difference. I think our friend, Dr Bower, will get a little surprise.’
‘I don’t like it,’ said Tuppence. ‘You know what happens when Desmond disobeys the Chief’s orders and acts on his own. Our orders were quite clear. To send on the letters at once and to report immediately on anything that happened.’
‘You’ve not got it quite right,’ said Tommy. ‘We were to report immediately if any one came in and mentioned the number 16. Nobody has.’
‘That’s a quibble,’ said Tuppence.
‘It’s no good. I’ve got a fancy for playing a lone hand. My dear old Tuppence, I shall be all right. I shall go armed to the teeth. The essence of the whole thing is that I shall be on my guard and they won’t know it. The Chief will be patting me on the back for a good night’s work.’
‘Well,’ said Tuppence. ‘I don’t like it. That man’s as strong as a gorilla.’
‘Ah!’ said Tommy, ‘but think of my blue-nosed automatic.’
The door of the outer office opened and Albert appeared. Closing the door behind him, he approached them with an envelope in his hand.
‘A gentleman to see you,’ said Albert. ‘When I began the usual stunt of saying you were engaged with Scotland Yard, he told me he knew all about that. Said he came from Scotland Yard himself! And he wrote something on a card and stuck it up in this envelope.’
Tommy took the envelope and opened it. As he read the card, a grin passed across his face.
‘The gentleman was amusing himself at your expense by speaking the truth, Albert,’ he remarked. ‘Show him in.’
He tossed the card to Tuppence. It bore the name Detective Inspector Dymchurch, and across it was scrawled in pencil – ‘A friend of Marriot’s.’
In another minute the Scotland Yard detective was entering the inner office. In appearance, Inspector Dymchurch was of the same type as Inspector Marriot, short and thick set, with shrewd eyes.
‘Good-afternoon,’ said the detective breezily. ‘Marriot’s away in South Wales, but before he went he asked me to keep an eye on you two, and on this place in general. Oh, bless you, sir,’ he went on, as Tommy seemed about to interrupt him, ‘we know all about it. It’s not our department, and we don’t interfere. But somebody’s got wise lately to the fact that all is not what it seems. You’ve had a gentleman here this afternoon. I don’t know what he called himself, and I don’t know what his real name is, but I know just a little about him. Enough to want to know more.