Tommy and Tuppence were busy sorting correspondence. Tuppence gavean exclamation2 and handed a letter across to Tommy.
“A new client,” she said importantly.
“Ha!” said Tommy. “What do we deduce from this letter, Watson? Noth-ing much, except the somewhat obvious fact that Mr.—er—MontgomeryJones is not one of the world’s best spellers, thereby3 proving that he hasbeen expensively educated.”
“Montgomery Jones?” said Tuppence. “Now what do I know about aMontgomery Jones? Oh, yes, I have got it now. I think Janet St. Vincentmentioned him. His mother was Lady Aileen Montgomery, very crustyand high-church, with gold crosses and things, and she married a mancalled Jones who is immensely rich.”
“In fact the same old story,” said Tommy. “Let me see, what time doesthis Mr. M. J. wish to see us? Ah, eleven thirty.”
At eleven thirty precisely4, a very tall young man with an amiable5 and in-genuous countenance6 entered the outer office and addressed himself toAlbert, the office boy.
“Look here—I say. Can I see Mr.—er—Blunt?”
“Have you an appointment, sir?” said Albert.
“I don’t quite know. Yes, I suppose I have. What I mean is, I wrote a let-ter—”
“What name, sir?”
“Mr. Montgomery Jones.”
“I will take your name in to Mr. Blunt.”
He returned after a brief interval7.
“Will you wait a few minutes please, sir. Mr. Blunt is engaged on a veryimportant conference at present.”
“Oh—er—yes—certainly,” said Mr. Montgomery Jones.
Having, he hoped, impressed his client sufficiently8 Tommy rang thebuzzer on his desk, and Mr. Montgomery Jones was ushered9 into the inneroffice by Albert.
Tommy rose to greet him, and shaking him warmly by the hand mo-tioned towards the vacant chair.
“Now, Mr. Montgomery Jones,” he said briskly. “What can we have thepleasure of doing for you?”
Mr. Montgomery Jones looked uncertainly at the third occupant of theoffice.
“My confidential10 secretary, Miss Robinson,” said Tommy. “You canspeak quite freely before her. I take it that this is some family matter of adelicate kind?”
“Well—not exactly,” said Mr. Montgomery Jones.
“You surprise me,” said Tommy. “You are not in trouble of any kindyourself, I hope?”
“Oh, rather not,” said Mr. Montgomery Jones.
“Well,” said Tommy, “perhaps you will—er—state the facts plainly.”
That, however, seemed to be the one thing that Mr. Montgomery Jonescould not do.
“It’s a dashed odd sort of thing I have got to ask you,” he said hesitat-ingly. “I—er—I really don’t know how to set about it.”
“We never touch divorce cases,” said Tommy.
“Oh Lord, no,” said Mr. Montgomery Jones. “I don’t mean that. It is just,well—it’s a deuced silly sort of a joke. That’s all.”
“Someone has played a practical joke on you of a mysterious nature?”
suggested Tommy.
But Mr. Montgomery Jones once more shook his head.
“Well,” said Tommy, retiring gracefully11 from the position, “take yourown time and let us have it in your own words.”
There was a pause.
“You see,” said Mr. Jones at last, “it was at dinner. I sat next to a girl.”
“Yes?” said Tommy encouragingly.
“She was a—oh well, I really can’t describe her, but she was simply oneof the most sporting girls I ever met. She’s an Australian, over here withanother girl, sharing a flat with her in Clarges Street. She’s simply gamefor anything. I absolutely can’t tell you the effect that girl had on me.”
“We can quite imagine it, Mr. Jones,” said Tuppence.
She saw clearly that if Mr. Montgomery Jones’s troubles were ever to beextracted a sympathetic feminine touch was needed, as distinct from thebusinesslike methods of Mr. Blunt.
“We can understand,” said Tuppence encouragingly.
“Well, the whole thing came as an absolute shock to me,” said Mr. Mont-gomery Jones, “that a girl could well—knock you over like that. There hadbeen another girl—in fact two other girls. One was awfully12 jolly and allthat, but I didn’t much like her chin. She danced marvellously though, andI have known her all my life, which makes a fellow feel kind of safe, youknow. And then there was one of the girls at the ‘Frivolity.’ Frightfullyamusing, but of course there would be a lot of ructions with the matterover that, and anyway I didn’t really want to marry either of them, but Iwas thinking about things, you know, and then—slap out of the blue—I satnext to this girl and—”
“The whole world was changed,” said Tuppence in a feeling voice.
Tommy moved impatiently in his chair. He was by now somewhatbored by the recital14 of Mr. Montgomery Jones’s love affairs.
“You put it awfully well,” said Mr. Montgomery Jones. “That is abso-lutely what it was like. Only, you know, I fancy she didn’t think much ofme. You mayn’t think it, but I am not terribly clever.”
“Oh, you mustn’t be too modest,” said Tuppence.
“Oh, I do realise that I am not much of a chap,” said Mr. Jones with anengaging smile. “Not for a perfectly15 marvellous girl like that. That is why Ijust feel I have got to put this thing through. It’s my only chance. She’ssuch a sporting girl that she would never go back on her word.”
“Well, I am sure we wish you luck and all that,” said Tuppence kindly16.
“But I don’t exactly see what you want us to do.”
“Oh Lord,” said Mr. Montgomery Jones. “Haven’t I explained?”
“No,” said Tommy, “you haven’t.”
“Well, it was like this. We were talking about detective stories. Una—that’s her name—is just as keen about them as I am. We got talking aboutone in particular. It all hinges on an alibi. Then we got talking about alibisand faking them. Then I said—no, she said—now which of us was it thatsaid it?”
“Never mind which of you it was,” said Tuppence.
“I said it would be a jolly difficult thing to do. She disagreed—said it onlywanted a bit of brain work. We got all hot and excited about it and in theend she said, ‘I will make you a sporting offer. What do you bet that I canproduce an alibi that nobody can shake?’ ”
“‘Anything you like,’ I said, and we settled it then and there. She wasfrightfully cocksure about the whole thing. ‘It’s an odds18 on chance for me,’
she said. ‘Don’t be so sure of that,’ I said. ‘Supposing you lose and I ask youfor anything I like?’ She laughed and said she came of a gambling19 familyand I could.”
“Well?” said Tuppence as Mr. Jones came to a pause and looked at herappealingly.
“Well, don’t you see? It is up to me. It is the only chance I have got of get-ting a girl like that to look at me. You have no idea how sporting she is.
Last summer she was out in a boat and someone bet her she wouldn’tjump overboard and swim ashore20 in her clothes, and she did it.”
“It is a very curious proposition,” said Tommy. “I am not quite sure I yetunderstand it.”
“It is perfectly simple,” said Mr. Montgomery Jones. “You must be doingthis sort of thing all the time. Investigating fake alibis17 and seeing wherethey fall down.”
“Oh — er — yes, of course,” said Tommy. “We do a lot of that sort ofwork.”
“Someone has got to do it for me,” said Montgomery Jones. “I shouldn’tbe any good at that sort of thing myself. You have only got to catch her outand everything is all right. I dare say it seems rather a futile21 business toyou, but it means a lot to me and I am prepared to pay—er—all necessarywhatnots, you know.”
“That will be all right,” said Tuppence. “I am sure Mr. Blunt will takethis case on for you.”
“Certainly, certainly,” said Tommy. “A most refreshing22 case, most re-freshing indeed.”
Mr. Montgomery Jones heaved a sigh of relief, pulled a mass of papersfrom his pocket and selected one of them. “Here it is,” he said. “She says, ‘Iam sending you proof I was in two distinct places at one and the sametime. According to one story I dined at the Bon Temps Restaurant in Sohoby myself, went to the Duke’s Theatre and had supper with a friend, Mr. leMarchant, at the Savoy — but I was also staying at the Castle Hotel,Torquay, and only returned to London on the following morning. Youhave got to find out which of the two stories is the true one and how Imanaged the other.’ ”
“There,” said Mr. Montgomery Jones. “Now you see what it is that I wantyou to do.”
“A most refreshing little problem,” said Tommy. “Very naive23.”
“Here is Una’s photograph,” said Mr. Montgomery Jones. “You will wantthat.”
“What is the lady’s full name?” inquired Tommy.
“Miss Una Drake. And her address is 180 Clarges Street.”
“Thank you,” said Tommy. “Well, we will look into the matter for you,Mr. Montgomery Jones. I hope we shall have good news for you veryshortly.”
“I say, you know, I am no end grateful,” said Mr. Jones, rising to his feetand shaking Tommy by the hand. “It has taken an awful load off mymind.”
Having seen his client out, Tommy returned to the inner office. Tup-pence was at the cupboard that contained the classic library.
“Inspector24 French,” said Tuppence.
“Eh?” said Tommy.
“Inspector French, of course,” said Tuppence. “He always does alibis. Iknow the exact procedure. We have to go over everything and check it. Atfirst it will seem all right and then when we examine it more closely weshall find the flaw.”
“There ought not to be much difficulty about that,” agreed Tommy. “Imean, knowing that one of them is a fake to start with makes the thing al-most a certainty, I should say. That is what worries me.”
“I don’t see anything to worry about in that.”
“I am worrying about the girl,” said Tommy. “She will probably be let into marry that young man whether she wants to or not.”
“Darling,” said Tuppence, “don’t be foolish. Women are never the wildgamblers they appear. Unless that girl was already perfectly prepared tomarry that pleasant, but rather empty- headed young man, she wouldnever have let herself in for a wager25 of this kind. But, Tommy, believe me,she will marry him with more enthusiasm and respect if he wins thewager than if she has to make it easy for him some other way.”
“You do think you know about everything,” said her husband.
“I do,” said Tuppence.
“And now to examine our data,” said Tommy, drawing the papers to-wards him. “First the photograph—h’m—quite a nice looking girl—andquite a good photograph, I should say. Clear and easily recognisable.”
“We must get some other girls’ photographs,” said Tuppence.
“Why?”
“They always do,” said Tuppence. “You show four or five to waiters andthey pick out the right one.”
“Do you think they do?” said Tommy—“pick out the right one, I mean.”
“Well, they do in books,” said Tuppence.
“It is a pity that real life is so different from fiction,” said Tommy. “Nowthen, what have we here? Yes, this is the London lot. Dined at the BonTemps seven thirty. Went to Duke’s Theatre and saw Delphiniums Blue.
Counterfoil26 of theatre ticket enclosed. Supper at the Savoy with Mr. leMarchant. We can, I suppose, interview Mr. le Marchant.”
“That tells us nothing at all,” said Tuppence, “because if he is helping27 herto do it he naturally won’t give the show away. We can wash out anythinghe says now.”
“Well, here is the Torquay end,” went on Tommy. “Twelve o’clock fromPaddington, had lunch in the Restaurant Car, receipted bill enclosed.
Stayed at Castle Hotel for one night. Again receipted bill.”
“I think this is all rather weak,” said Tuppence. “Anyone can buy atheatre ticket, you need never go near the theatre. The girl just went toTorquay and the London thing is a fake.”
“If so, it is rather a sitter for us,” said Tommy. “Well, I suppose we mightas well go and interview Mr. le Marchant.”
Mr. le Marchant proved to be a breezy youth who betrayed no great sur-prise on seeing them.
“Una has got some little game on, hasn’t she?” he asked. “You neverknow what that kid is up to.”
“I understand, Mr. le Marchant,” said Tommy, “that Miss Drake had sup-per with you at the Savoy last Tuesday evening.”
“That’s right,” said Mr. le Marchant, “I know it was Tuesday becauseUna impressed it on me at the time and what’s more she made me write itdown in a little book.”
With some pride he showed an entry faintly pencilled. “Having supperwith Una. Savoy. Tuesday 19th.”
“Where had Miss Drake been earlier in the evening? Do you know?”
“She had been to some rotten show called Pink Peonies or something likethat. Absolute slosh, so she told me.”
“You are quite sure Miss Drake was with you that evening?”
Mr. le Marchant stared at him.
“Why, of course. Haven’t I been telling you.”
“Perhaps she asked you to tell us,” said Tuppence.
“Well, for a matter of fact she did say something that was rather dashedodd. She said—what was it now? ‘You think you are sitting here havingsupper with me, Jimmy, but really I am having supper two hundred milesaway in Devonshire.’ Now that was a dashed odd thing to say, don’t youthink so? Sort of astral body stuff. The funny thing is that a pal28 of mine,Dicky Rice, thought he saw her there.”
“Who is this Mr. Rice?”
“Oh, just a friend of mine. He had been down in Torquay staying withan aunt. Sort of old bean who is always going to die and never does. Dickyhad been down doing the dutiful nephew. He said, ‘I saw that Australiangirl one day—Una something or other. Wanted to go and talk to her, butmy aunt carried me off to chat with an old pussy29 in a bath chair.’ I said:
‘When was this?’ and he said, ‘Oh, Tuesday about tea time.’ I told him, ofcourse, that he had made a mistake, but it was odd, wasn’t it? With Unasaying that about Devonshire that evening?”
“Very odd,” said Tommy. “Tell me, Mr. le Marchant, did anyone youknow have supper near you at the Savoy?”
“Some people called Oglander were at the next table.”
“Do they know Miss Drake?”
“Oh yes, they know her. They are not frightful13 friends or anything ofthat kind.”
“Well, if there’s nothing more you can tell us, Mr. le Marchant, I thinkwe will wish you good morning.”
“Either that chap is an extraordinarily30 good liar31,” said Tommy as theyreached the street, “or else he is speaking the truth.”
“Yes,” said Tuppence, “I have changed my opinion. I have a sort of feel-ing now that Una Drake was at the Savoy for supper that night.”
“We will now go to the Bon Temps,” said Tommy. “A little food forstarving sleuths is clearly indicated. Let’s just get a few girls’ photographsfirst.”
This proved rather more difficult than was expected. Turning into aphotographers and demanding a few assorted32 photographs, they were metwith a cold rebuff.
“Why are all the things that are so easy and simple in books so difficultin real life,” wailed33 Tuppence. “How horribly suspicious they looked.
What do you think they thought we wanted to do with the photographs?
We had better go and raid Jane’s flat.”
Tuppence’s friend Jane proved of an accommodating disposition34 andpermitted Tuppence to rummage35 in a drawer and select four specimens36 offormer friends of Jane’s who had been shoved hastily in to be out of sightand mind.
Armed with this galaxy37 of feminine beauty they proceeded to the BonTemps where fresh difficulties and much expense awaited them. Tommyhad to get hold of each waiter in turn, tip him and then produce the assor-ted photographs. The result was unsatisfactory. At least three of the photo-graphs were promising38 starters as having dined there last Tuesday. Theythen returned to the office where Tuppence immersed herself in an A.B.C.
“Paddington twelve o’clock. Torquay three thirty-five. That’s the trainand le Marchant’s friend, Mr. Sago or Tapioca or something saw her thereabout tea time.”
“We haven’t checked his statement, remember,” said Tommy. “If, as yousaid to begin with, le Marchant is a friend of Una Drake’s he may have in-vented this story.”
“Oh, we’ll hunt up Mr. Rice,” said Tuppence. “I have a kind of hunch39 thatMr. le Marchant was speaking the truth. No, what I am trying to get atnow is this. Una Drake leaves London by the twelve o’clock train, possiblytakes a room at a hotel and unpacks40. Then she takes a train back to townarriving in time to get to the Savoy. There is one at four forty gets up toPaddington at nine ten.”
“And then?” said Tommy.
“And then,” said Tuppence frowning, “it is rather more difficult. There isa midnight train from Paddington down again, but she could hardly takethat, that would be too early.”
“A fast car,” suggested Tommy.
“H’m,” said Tuppence. “It is just on two hundred miles.”
“Australians, I have always been told, drive very recklessly.”
“Oh, I suppose it could be done,” said Tuppence. “She would arrive thereabout seven.”
“Are you supposing her to have nipped into her bed at the Castle Hotelwithout being seen? Or arriving there explaining that she had been out allnight and could she have her bill, please?”
“Tommy,” said Tuppence, “we are idiots. She needn’t have gone back toTorquay at all. She has only got to get a friend to go to the hotel there andcollect her luggage and pay her bill. Then you get the receipted bill withthe proper date on it.”
“I think on the whole we have worked out a very sound hypothesis,”
said Tommy. “The next thing to do is to catch the twelve o’clock train toTorquay tomorrow and verify our brilliant conclusions.”
Armed with a portfolio41 of photographs, Tommy and Tuppence duly es-tablished themselves in a first-class carriage the following morning, andbooked seats for the second lunch.
“It probably won’t be the same dining car attendants,” said Tommy.
“That would be too much luck to expect. I expect we shall have to travelup and down to Torquay for days before we strike the right ones.”
“This alibi business is very trying,” said Tuppence. “In books it is allpassed over in two or three paragraphs. Inspector Something thenboarded the train to Torquay and questioned the dining car attendantsand so ended the story.”
For once, however, the young couple’s luck was in. In answer to theirquestion the attendant who brought their bill for lunch proved to be thesame one who had been on duty the preceding Tuesday. What Tommycalled the ten- shilling touch then came into action and Tuppence pro-duced the portfolio.
“I want to know,” said Tommy, “if any of these ladies had lunch on thistrain on Tuesday last?”
In a gratifying manner worthy42 of the best detective fiction the man atonce indicated the photograph of Una Drake.
“Yes, sir, I remember that lady, and I remember that it was Tuesday, be-cause the lady herself drew attention to the fact, saying it was always theluckiest day in the week for her.”
“So far, so good,” said Tuppence as they returned to their compartment43.
“And we will probably find that she booked at the hotel all right. It is goingto be more difficult to prove that she travelled back to London, but per-haps one of the porters at the station may remember.”
Here, however, they drew a blank, and crossing to the up platformTommy made inquiries44 of the ticket collector and of various porters. Afterthe distribution of half crowns as a preliminary to inquiring, two of theporters picked out one of the other photographs with a vague remem-brance that someone like that travelled to town by the four forty that af-ternoon, but there was no identification of Una Drake.
“But that doesn’t prove anything,” said Tuppence as they left the station.
“She may have travelled by that train and no one noticed her.”
“She may have gone from the other station, from Torre.”
“That’s quite likely,” said Tuppence, “however, we can see to that afterwe have been to the hotel.”
The Castle Hotel was a big one overlooking the sea. After booking aroom for the night and signing the register, Tommy observed pleasantly.
“I believe you had a friend of ours staying here last Tuesday. Miss UnaDrake.”
The young lady in the bureau beamed at him.
“Oh, yes, I remember quite well. An Australian young lady, I believe.”
At a sign from Tommy, Tuppence produced the photograph.
“That is rather a charming photograph of her, isn’t it?” said Tuppence.
“Oh, very nice, very nice indeed, quite stylish45.”
“Did she stay here long?” inquired Tommy.
“Only the one night. She went away by the express the next morningback to London. It seemed a long way to come for one night, but of courseI suppose Australian ladies don’t think anything of travelling.”
“She is a very sporting girl,” said Tommy, “always having adventures. Itwasn’t here, was it, that she went out to dine with some friends, went for adrive in their car afterwards, ran the car into a ditch and wasn’t able toget home till morning?”
“Oh, no,” said the young lady. “Miss Drake had dinner here in the hotel.”
“Really,” said Tommy, “are you sure of that? I mean — how do youknow?”
“Oh, I saw her.”
“I asked because I understood she was dining with some friends inTorquay,” explained Tommy.
“Oh, no, sir, she dined here.” The young lady laughed and blushed alittle. “I remember she had on a most sweetly pretty frock. One of thosenew flowered chiffons all over pansies.”
“Tuppence, this tears it,” said Tommy when they had been shown up-stairs to their room.
“It does rather,” said Tuppence. “Of course that woman may be mis-taken. We will ask the waiter at dinner. There can’t be very many peoplehere just at this time of year.”
This time it was Tuppence who opened the attack.
“Can you tell me if a friend of mine was here last Tuesday?” she askedthe waiter with an engaging smile. “A Miss Drake, wearing a frock all overpansies, I believe.” She produced a photograph. “This lady.”
The waiter broke into immediate46 smiles of recognition.
“Yes, yes, Miss Drake, I remember her very well. She told me she camefrom Australia.”
“She dined here?”
“Yes. It was last Tuesday. She asked me if there was anything to do after-wards in the town.”
“Yes?”
“I told her the theatre, the Pavilion, but in the end she decided47 not to goand she stayed here listening to our orchestra.”
“Oh, damn!” said Tommy, under his breath.
“You don’t remember what time she had dinner, do you?” asked Tup-pence.
“She came down a little late. It must have been about eight o’clock.”
“Damn, Blast, and Curse,” said Tuppence as she and Tommy left the din-ing room. “Tommy, this is all going wrong. It seemed so clear and lovely.”
“Well, I suppose we ought to have known it wouldn’t all be plain sail-ing.”
“Is there any train she could have taken after that, I wonder?”
“Not one that would have landed her in London in time to go to the Sa-voy.”
“Well,” said Tuppence, “as a last hope I am going to talk to the chamber-maid. Una Drake had a room on the same floor as ours.”
The chambermaid was a voluble and informative48 woman. Yes, she re-membered the young lady quite well. That was her picture right enough. Avery nice young lady, very merry and talkative. Had told her a lot aboutAustralia and the kangaroos.
The young lady rang the bell about half past nine and asked for herbottle to be filled and put in her bed, and also to be called the next morn-ing at half past seven—with coffee instead of tea.
“You did call her and she was in her bed?” asked Tuppence.
“Why, yes, Ma’am, of course.”
“Oh, I only wondered if she was doing exercises or anything,” said Tup-pence wildly. “So many people do in the early morning.”
“Well, that seems cast-iron enough,” said Tommy when the chamber-maid had departed. “There is only one conclusion to be drawn49 from it. It isthe London side of the thing that must be faked.”
“Mr. le Marchant must be a more accomplished50 liar than we thought,”
said Tuppence.
“We have a way of checking his statements,” said Tommy. “He saidthere were people sitting at the next table whom Una knew slightly. Whatwas their name—Oglander, that was it. We must hunt up these Oglanders,and we ought also to make inquiries at Miss Drake’s flat in Clarges Street.”
The following morning they paid their bill and departed somewhatcrestfallen.
Hunting out the Oglanders was fairly easy with the aid of the telephonebook. Tuppence this time took the offensive and assumed the character ofa representative of a new illustrated51 paper. She called on Mrs. Oglander,asking for a few details of their “smart” supper party at the Savoy on Tues-day evening. These details Mrs. Oglander was only too willing to supply.
Just as she was leaving Tuppence added carelessly. “Let me see, wasn’tMiss Drake sitting at the table next to you? Is it really true that she is en-gaged to the Duke of Perth? You know her, of course.”
“I know her slightly,” said Mrs. Oglander. “A very charming girl, I be-lieve. Yes, she was sitting at the next table to ours with Mr. le Marchant.
My girls know her better than I do.”
Tuppence’s next port of call was the flat in Clarges Street. Here she wasgreeted by Miss Marjory Leicester, the friend with whom Miss Drakeshared a flat.
“Do tell me what all this is about?” asked Miss Leicester plaintively52.
“Una has some deep game on and I don’t know what it is. Of course sheslept here on Tuesday night.”
“Did you see her when she came in?”
“No, I had gone to bed. She has got her own latch53 key, of course. Shecame in about one o’clock, I believe.”
“When did you see her?”
“Oh, the next morning about nine—or perhaps it was nearer ten.”
As Tuppence left the flat she almost collided with a tall gaunt femalewho was entering.
“Excuse me, Miss, I’m sure,” said the gaunt female.
“Do you work here?” asked Tuppence.
“Yes, Miss, I come daily.”
“What time do you get here in the morning?”
“Nine o’clock is my time, Miss.”
Tuppence slipped a hurried half crown into the gaunt female’s hand.
“Was Miss Drake here last Tuesday morning when you arrived?”
“Why, yes, Miss, indeed she was. Fast asleep in her bed and hardly wokeup when I brought her in her tea.”
“Oh, thank you,” said Tuppence and went disconsolately54 down thestairs.
She had arranged to meet Tommy for lunch in a small restaurant inSoho and there they compared notes.
“I have seen that fellow Rice. It is quite true he did see Una Drake in thedistance at Torquay.”
“Well,” said Tuppence, “we have checked these alibis all right. Here, giveme a bit of paper and a pencil, Tommy. Let us put it down neatly55 like alldetectives do.”
1:30
Una Drake seen in
Luncheon56 Car of train.
4 o’clock
Arrives at Castle Hotel.
5 o’clock
Seen by Mr. Rice.
8 o’clock
Seen dining at hotel.
9:30
Asks for hot water
bottle.
11:30
Seen at Savoy with Mr.
le Marchant.
7:30 a.m.
Called by chambermaid
at Castle Hotel.
9 o’clock.
Called by charwoman at
flat at Clarges Street.
They looked at each other.
“Well, it looks to me as if Blunt’s Brilliant Detectives are beat,” saidTommy.
“Oh, we mustn’t give up,” said Tuppence. “Somebody must be lying!”
“The queer thing is that it strikes me nobody was lying. They all seemedperfectly truthful57 and straightforward58.”
“Yet there must be a flaw. We know there is. I think of all sorts of thingslike private aeroplanes, but that doesn’t really get us any forwarder.”
“I am inclined to the theory of an astral body.”
“Well,” said Tuppence, “the only thing to do is to sleep on it. Your sub-conscious works in your sleep.”
“H’m,” said Tommy. “If your subconscious59 provides you with a perfectlygood answer to this riddle60 by tomorrow morning, I take off my hat to it.”
They were very silent all that evening. Again and again Tuppence rever-ted to the paper of times. She wrote things on bits of paper. She mur-mured to herself, she sought perplexedly through Rail Guides. But in theend they both rose to go to bed with no faint glimmer61 of light on the prob-lem.
“This is very disheartening,” said Tommy.
“One of the most miserable62 evenings I have ever spent,” said Tuppence.
“We ought to have gone to a Music Hall,” said Tommy. “A few good jokesabout mothers-in-law and twins and bottles of beer would have done usno end of good.”
“No, you will see this concentration will work in the end,” said Tup-pence. “How busy our subconscious will have to be in the next eighthours!” And on this hopeful note they went to bed.
“Well,” said Tommy next morning. “Has the subconscious worked?”
“I have got an idea,” said Tuppence.
“You have. What sort of an idea?”
“Well, rather a funny idea. Not at all like anything I have ever read indetective stories. As a matter of fact it is an idea that you put into myhead.”
“Then it must be a good idea,” said Tommy firmly. “Come on, Tuppence,out with it.”
“I shall have to send a cable to verify it,” said Tuppence. “No, I am notgoing to tell you. It’s a perfectly wild idea, but it’s the only thing that fitsthe facts.”
“Well,” said Tommy, “I must away to the office. A roomful of disappoin-ted clients must not wait in vain. I leave this case in the hands of mypromising subordinate.”
Tuppence nodded cheerfully.
She did not put in an appearance at the office all day. When Tommy re-turned that evening about half past five it was to find a wildly exultantTuppence awaiting him.
“I have done it, Tommy. I have solved the mystery of the alibi. We cancharge up all these half crowns and ten-shilling notes and demand a sub-stantial fee of our own from Mr. Montgomery Jones and he can go right offand collect his girl.”
“What is the solution?” cried Tommy.
“A perfectly simple one,” said Tuppence. “Twins.”
“What do you mean?—Twins?”
“Why, just that. Of course it is the only solution. I will say you put it intomy head last night talking about mothers- in- law, twins, and bottles ofbeer. I cabled to Australia and got back the information I wanted. Una hasa twin sister, Vera, who arrived in England last Monday. That is why shewas able to make this bet so spontaneously. She thought it would be afrightful rag on poor Montgomery Jones. The sister went to Torquay andshe stayed in London.”
“Do you think she’ll be terribly despondent63 that she’s lost?” askedTommy.
“No,” said Tuppence, “I don’t. I gave you my views about that before.
She will put all the kudos64 down to Montgomery Jones. I always think re-spect for your husband’s abilities should be the foundation of marriedlife.”
“I am glad to have inspired these sentiments in you, Tuppence.”
“It is not a really satisfactory solution,” said Tuppence. “Not the ingeni-ous sort of flaw that Inspector French would have detected.”
“Nonsense,” said Tommy. “I think the way I showed these photographsto the waiter in the restaurant was exactly like Inspector French.”
“He didn’t have to use nearly so many half crowns and ten-shilling notesas we seem to have done,” said Tuppence.
“Never mind,” said Tommy. “We can charge them all up with additionsto Mr. Montgomery Jones. He will be in such a state of idiotic65 bliss66 that hewould probably pay the most enormous bill without jibbing at it.”
“So he should,” said Tuppence. “Haven’t Blunt’s Brilliant Detectives beenbrilliantly successful? Oh, Tommy, I do think we are extraordinarilyclever. It quite frightens me sometimes.”
“The next case we have shall be a Roger Sheringham case, and you, Tup-pence, shall be Roger Sheringham.”
“I shall have to talk a lot,” said Tuppence.
“You do that naturally,” said Tommy. “And now I suggest that we carryout my programme of last night and seek out a Music Hall where theyhave plenty of jokes about mothers-in-law, bottles of beer, and Twins.”
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1
alibi
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| n.某人当时不在犯罪现场的申辩或证明；借口 | |
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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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ushered
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| v.引，领，陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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recital
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| n.朗诵，独奏会，独唱会 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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17
alibis
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| 某人在别处的证据( alibi的名词复数 )； 不在犯罪现场的证人； 借口； 托辞 | |
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18
odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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gambling
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| n.赌博；投机 | |
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ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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refreshing
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| adj.使精神振作的，使人清爽的，使人喜欢的 | |
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naive
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| adj.幼稚的，轻信的；天真的 | |
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inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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wager
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| n.赌注；vt.押注，打赌 | |
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counterfoil
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| n.(支票、邮局汇款单、收据等的)存根，票根 | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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pal
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| n.朋友，伙伴，同志；vi.结为友 | |
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pussy
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| n.(儿语)小猫，猫咪 | |
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extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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assorted
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| adj.各种各样的，各色俱备的 | |
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wailed
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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rummage
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| v./n.翻寻，仔细检查 | |
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specimens
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| n.样品( specimen的名词复数 )；范例；（化验的）抽样；某种类型的人 | |
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galaxy
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| n.星系；银河系；一群(杰出或著名的人物) | |
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promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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hunch
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| n.预感，直觉 | |
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unpacks
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| v.从（包裹等）中取出（所装的东西），打开行李取出( unpack的第三人称单数 )；拆包；解除…的负担；吐露（心事等） | |
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portfolio
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| n.公事包；文件夹；大臣及部长职位 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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compartment
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| n.卧车包房，隔间；分隔的空间 | |
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inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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45
stylish
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| adj.流行的，时髦的；漂亮的，气派的 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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informative
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| adj.提供资料的，增进知识的 | |
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49
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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51
illustrated
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| adj. 有插图的，列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
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52
plaintively
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| adv.悲哀地，哀怨地 | |
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53
latch
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| n.门闩，窗闩；弹簧锁 | |
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disconsolately
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| adv.悲伤地，愁闷地；哭丧着脸 | |
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neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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56
luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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57
truthful
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| adj.真实的，说实话的，诚实的 | |
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straightforward
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| adj.正直的，坦率的；易懂的，简单的 | |
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subconscious
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| n./adj.潜意识(的)，下意识(的) | |
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60
riddle
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| n.谜，谜语，粗筛；vt.解谜，给…出谜，筛，检查，鉴定，非难，充满于；vi.出谜 | |
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glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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62
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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despondent
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| adj.失望的，沮丧的，泄气的 | |
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64
kudos
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| n.荣誉，名声 | |
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65
idiotic
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| adj.白痴的 | |
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66
bliss
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| n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福 | |
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