THE AFFAIR OF THE PINK PEARL
"What on earth are you doing?" demanded Tuppence, as she entered the
inner sanctum of the International Detective Agency--(Slogan--Blunt's
Brilliant Detectives) and discovered her lord and master prone on the
floor in a sea of books.
Tommy struggled to his feet.
"I was trying to arrange these books on the top shelf of that
cupboard," he complained. "And the damned chair gave way."
"What are they, anyway?" asked Tuppence, picking up a volume. "'The
Hound of the Baskervilles.' I wouldn't mind reading that again some
time."
"You see the idea?" said Tommy, dusting himself with care. "Half hours
with the Great Masters--that sort of thing. You see, Tuppence, I can't
help feeling that we are more or less amateurs at this business--of
course amateurs in one sense we cannot help being, but it would do no
harm to acquire the technique, so to speak. These books are detective
stories by the leading masters of the art. I intend to try different
styles, and compare results."
"H'm," said Tuppence. "I often wonder how those detectives would have
got on in real life." She picked up another volume. "You'll find a
difficulty in being a Thorndyke. You've no medical experience, and less
legal, and I never heard that science was your strong point."
"Perhaps not," said Tommy. "But at any rate I've bought a very good
camera, and I shall photograph footprints and enlarge the negatives and
all that sort of thing. Now, mon ami, use your little grey cells--what
does this convey to you?"
He pointed to the bottom shelf of the cupboard. On it lay a somewhat
futuristic dressing gown, a turkish slipper, and a violin.
"Obvious, my dear Watson," said Tuppence.
"Exactly," said Tommy. "The Sherlock Holmes touch."
He took up the violin and drew the bow idly across the strings, causing
Tuppence to give a wail of agony.
At that moment the buzzer rang on the desk, a sign that a client had
arrived in the outer office and was being held in parley by Albert, the
office boy.
Tommy hastily replaced the violin in the cupboard and kicked the books
behind the desk.
"Not that there's any great hurry," he remarked. "Albert will be
handing them out the stuff about my being engaged with Scotland Yard on
the phone. Get into your office and start typing, Tuppence. It makes
the office sound busy and active. No, on second thoughts, you shall be
taking notes in shorthand from my dictation. Let's have a look before
we get Albert to send the victim in."
They approached the peephole which had been artistically contrived so
as to command a view of the outer office.
The client was a girl of about Tuppence's age, tall and dark with a
rather haggard face and scornful eyes.
"Clothes cheap and striking," remarked Tuppence. "Have her in, Tommy."
In another minute the girl was shaking hands with the celebrated Mr.
Blunt, whilst Tuppence sat by with eyes demurely downcast, and pad and
pencil in hand.
"My confidential secretary, Miss Robinson," said Mr. Blunt with a wave
of the hand. "You may speak freely before her." Then he lay back for a
minute, half closed his eyes and remarked in a tired tone: "You must
find traveling in a bus very crowded at this time of day."
"I came in a taxi," said the girl.
"Oh!" said Tommy aggrieved. His eyes rested reproachfully on a blue bus
ticket protruding from her glove. The girl's eyes followed his glance,
and she smiled and drew it out.
"You mean this? I picked it up on the pavement. A little neighbor of
ours collects them."
Tuppence coughed, and Tommy threw a baleful glare at her.
"We must get to business," he said briskly. "You are in need of our
services, Miss--?"
"Kingston Bruce is my name," said the girl. "We live at Wimbledon. Last
night a lady who is staying with us lost a valuable pink pearl. Mr.
St. Vincent was also dining with us, and during dinner he happened to
mention your firm. My mother sent me off to you this morning to ask you
if you would look into the matter for us."
The girl spoke sullenly, almost disagreeably. It was clear as daylight
that she and her mother had not agreed over the matter. She was here
under protest.
"I see," said Tommy, a little puzzled. "You have not called in the
police?"
"No," said Miss Kingston Bruce, "we haven't. It would be idiotic to
call in the police and then find that the silly thing had rolled under
the fireplace, or something like that."
"Oh!" said Tommy. "Then the jewel may only be lost after all?"
Miss Kingston Bruce shrugged her shoulders.
"People make such a fuss about things," she murmured.
Tommy cleared his throat.
"Of course," he said doubtfully. "I am extremely busy just now--"
"I quite understand," said the girl rising to her feet. There was a
quick gleam of satisfaction in her eyes which Tuppence, for one, did
not miss.
"Nevertheless," continued Tommy, "I think I can manage to run down to
Wimbledon. Will you give me the address, please?"
"The Laurels, Edgeworth Road."
"Make a note of it, please, Miss Robinson."
Miss Kingston Bruce hesitated, then said rather ungraciously:
"We'll expect you then. Good morning."
"Funny girl," said Tommy. "I couldn't quite make her out."
"I wonder if she stole the thing herself," remarked Tuppence
meditatively. "Come on, Tommy, let's put away these books and take the
car and go down there. By the way, who are you going to be, Sherlock
Holmes still?"
"I think I need practice for that," said Tommy. "I came rather a
cropper over that bus ticket, didn't I?"
"You did," said Tuppence. "If I were you I shouldn't try too much on
that girl--she's as sharp as a needle. She's unhappy too, poor devil."
"I suppose you know all about her already," said Tommy with sarcasm,
"simply from looking at the shape of her nose!"
"I'll tell you my idea of what we shall find at The Laurels," said
Tuppence, quite unmoved. "A household of snobs, very keen to move in
the best society; the father, if there is a father, is sure to have a
military title. The girl falls in with their way of life and despises
herself for doing so."
Tommy took a last look at the books now neatly arranged upon a shelf.
"I think," he said thoughtfully, "that I shall be Thorndyke to-day."
"I shouldn't have thought there was anything medico-legal about this
case," remarked Tuppence.
"Perhaps not," said Tommy. "But I'm simply dying to use that new camera
of mine! It's supposed to have the most marvelous lens that ever was or
ever could be."
"I know those kind of lenses," said Tuppence. "By the time you've
adjusted the shutter and stopped down and calculated the exposure and
kept your eyes on the spirit level, your brain gives out, and you yearn
for the simple Brownie."
"Only an unambitious soul is content with the simple Brownie."
"Well, I bet I shall get better results with it than you will."
Tommy ignored this challenge.
"I ought to have a 'Smoker's Companion,'" he said regretfully. "I
wonder where one buys them?"
"There's always the patent corkscrew Aunt Araminta gave you last Xmas,"
said Tuppence helpfully.
"That's true," said Tommy. "A curious looking engine of destruction I
thought it at the time, and rather a humorous present to get from a
strictly teetotal aunt."
"I," said Tuppence, "shall be Polton."
Tommy looked at her scornfully.
"Polton indeed. You couldn't begin to do one of the things that he
does."
"Yes, I can," said Tuppence. "I can rub my hands together when I'm
pleased. That's quite enough to get on with. I hope you're going to
take plaster casts of footprints?"
Tommy was reduced to silence. Having collected the corkscrew they went
round to the garage, got out the car and started for Wimbledon.
The Laurels was a big house. It ran somewhat to gables and turrets, had
an air of being very newly painted, and was surrounded with neat flower
beds filled with scarlet geraniums.
A tall man with a close cropped white moustache, and an exaggeratedly
martial bearing opened the door before Tommy had time to ring.
"I've been looking out for you," he explained fussily. "Mr. Blunt, is
it not? I am Colonel Kingston Bruce. Will you come into my study?"
He led them into a small room at the back of the house.
"Young St. Vincent was telling me wonderful things about your firm.
I've noticed your advertisements myself. This guaranteed twenty-four
hours service of yours--a marvelous notion. That's exactly what I need."
Inwardly anathematizing Tuppence for her irresponsibility in inventing
this brilliant detail, Tommy replied: "Just so, Colonel."
"The whole thing is most distressing, sir, most distressing."
"Perhaps you would kindly give me the facts," said Tommy, with a hint
of impatience.
"Certainly I will--at once. We have at the present moment staying with
us a very old and dear friend of ours, Lady Laura Barton. Daughter
of the late Earl of Carrowway. The present Earl, her brother, made a
striking speech in the House of Lords the other day. As I say, she is
an old and dear friend of ours. Some American friends of mine who have
just come over, the Hamilton Betts, were most anxious to meet her.
'Nothing easier,' I said. 'She is staying with me now. Come down for
the week-end.' You know what Americans are about titles, Mr. Blunt."
"And others besides Americans sometimes, Colonel Kingston Bruce."
"Alas! only too true, my dear sir. Nothing I hate more than a snob.
Well, as I was saying, the Betts came down for the week-end. Last
night--we were playing Bridge at the time--the clasp of a pendant Mrs.
Hamilton Betts was wearing broke, so she took it off and laid it down
on a small table, meaning to take it upstairs with her when she went.
This, however, she forgot to do. I must explain, Mr. Blunt, that the
pendant consisted of two small diamond wings, and a big pink pearl
depending from them. The pendant was found this morning lying where
Mrs. Betts had left it, but the pearl, a pearl of enormous value, had
been wrenched off."
"Who found the pendant?"
"The parlormaid--Gladys Hill."
"Any reason to suspect her?"
"She has been with us some years, and we have always found her
perfectly honest. But, of course, one never knows--"
"Exactly. Will you describe your staff, and also tell me who was
present at dinner last night?"
"There is the cook--she has been with us only two months, but then she
would have no occasion to go near the drawing-room--the same applies to
the kitchen maid. Then there is the housemaid, Alice Cummings. She also
has been with us for some years. And Lady Laura's maid, of course. She
is French."
Colonel Kingston Bruce looked very impressive as he said this. Tommy,
unaffected by the revelation of the maid's nationality, said: "Exactly.
And the party at dinner?"
"Mr. and Mrs. Betts, ourselves--(my wife and daughter)--and Lady Laura.
Young St. Vincent was dining with us, and Mr. Rennie looked in after
dinner for a while."
"Who is Mr. Rennie?"
"A most pestilential fellow--an arrant socialist. Good looking, of
course, and with a certain specious power of argument. But a man, I
don't mind telling you, whom I wouldn't trust a yard. A dangerous sort
of fellow."
"In fact," said Tommy drily, "it is Mr. Rennie whom you suspect?"
"I do, Mr. Blunt. I'm sure, holding the views he does, that he can have
no principles whatsoever. What could have been easier for him than
to have quietly wrenched off the pearl at a moment when we were all
absorbed in our game? There were several absorbing moments--a redoubled
No Trump hand, I remember, and also a painful argument when my wife had
the misfortune to revoke."
"Quite so," said Tommy. "I should just like to know one thing--what is
Mrs. Betts' attitude in all this?"
"She wanted me to call in the police," said Colonel Kingston Bruce
reluctantly. "That is, when we had searched everywhere in case the
pearl had only dropped off."
"But you dissuaded her?"
"I was very averse to the idea of publicity and my wife and daughter
backed me up. Then my wife remembered young St. Vincent speaking about
your firm at dinner last night--and the twenty-four hours special
service."
"Yes," said Tommy with a heavy heart.
"You see, in any case no harm will be done. If we call in the police
to-morrow, it can be supposed that we thought the jewel merely lost and
were hunting for it. By the way, nobody has been allowed to leave the
house this morning."
"Except your daughter, of course," said Tuppence, speaking for the
first time.
"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 apartments 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 enameled 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 someone 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 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."
The familiar click occurred. He handed a glass slide to Elise to hold,
relinquished the tripod to Tuppence, and carefully readjusted and
closed the camera.
He made some easy excuse to get rid of Elise, and as soon as she was
out of the room, he caught hold of Tuppence and spoke rapidly.
"Look here, I've got an idea. Can you hang on here? Search all the
rooms--that will take some time. Try and get an interview with the
old bird--Lady Laura--but don't alarm her. Tell her you suspect the
parlormaid. But whatever you do, don't let her leave the house. I'm
going off in the car. I'll be back as soon as I can."
"All right," said Tuppence. "But don't be too cocksure. You've
forgotten one thing."
"What's that?"
"The girl. There's something funny about that girl. Listen, I've found
out the time she started from the house this morning. It took her two
hours to get to our office. That's nonsense. Where did she go before
she came to us?"
"There's something in that," admitted her husband. "Well, follow up
any old clue you like, but don't let Lady Laura leave the house. What's
that?"
His quick ear had caught a faint rustle outside on the landing. He
strode across to the door, but there was no one to be seen.
"Well, so long," he said. "I'll be back as soon as I can."