THE HOUSE OF LURKING DEATH
"What--" began Tuppence, and then stopped.
She had just entered the private office of Mr. Blunt from the adjoining
one marked "Clerks," and was surprised to behold her lord and master
with his eye riveted to the private peep hole into the outer office.
"Ssh," said Tommy, warningly. "Didn't you hear the buzzer? It's a
girl--rather a nice girl--in fact she looks to me a frightfully nice
girl. Albert is telling her all that tosh about my being engaged with
Scotland Yard."
"Let _me_ see," demanded Tuppence.
Somewhat unwillingly, Tommy moved aside. Tuppence in her turn glued her
eye to the peep hole.
"She's not bad," admitted Tuppence. "And her clothes are simply the
latest shout."
"She's perfectly lovely," said Tommy. "She's like those girls Mason
writes about--you know, frightfully sympathetic, and beautiful, and
distinctly intelligent without being too saucy. I think, yes--I
certainly think--I shall be the great Hanaud this morning."
"Hm," said Tuppence. "If there is one detective out of all the others
whom you are most unlike--I should say it was Hanaud. Can you do the
lightning changes of personality? Can you be the great comedian, the
little gutter boy, the serious and sympathetic friend--all in five
minutes?"
"I know this," said Tommy, rapping sharply on the desk, "I am the
Captain of the Ship--and don't you forget it, Tuppence. I'm going to
have her in."
He pressed the buzzer on his desk. Albert appeared ushering in the
client.
The girl stopped in the doorway as though undecided. Tommy came forward.
"Come in, Mademoiselle," he said kindly, "and seat yourself here."
Tuppence choked audibly, and Tommy turned upon her with a swift change
of manner. His tone was menacing.
"You spoke, Miss Robinson? Ah! no, I thought not."
He turned back to the girl.
"We will not be serious or formal," he said. "You will just tell me all
about it, and then we will discuss the best way to help you."
"You are very kind," said the girl. "Excuse me, but are you a
foreigner?"
A fresh choke from Tuppence. Tommy glared in her direction out of the
corner of his eye.
"Not exactly," he said with difficulty. "But of late years I have
worked a good deal abroad. My methods are the methods of the Sûreté."
"Oh!" The girl seemed impressed.
She was, as Tommy had indicated, a very charming girl. Young and slim,
with a trace of golden hair peeping out from under her little brown
felt hat, and big serious eyes.
That she was nervous could be plainly seen. Her little hands were
twisting themselves together, and she kept clasping and unclasping the
catch of her lacquer red handbag.
"First of all, Mr. Blunt, I must tell you that my name is Lois
Hargreaves. I live in a great rambling old fashioned house called
Thurnly Grange. It is in the heart of the country. There is the village
of Thurnly near by, but it is very small and insignificant. There is
plenty of hunting in winter, and we get tennis in summer, and I have
never felt lonely there. Indeed I much prefer country to town life.
"I tell you this so that you may realise that in a country village like
ours, everything that happens is of supreme importance. About a week
ago, I got a box of chocolates sent through the post. There was nothing
inside to indicate who they came from. Now I myself am not particularly
fond of chocolates, but the others in the house are, and the box was
passed around. As a result, everyone who had eaten any chocolates was
taken ill. We sent for the doctor, and after various inquiries as to
what other things had been eaten, he took the remains of the chocolates
away with him, and had them analysed. Mr. Blunt, those chocolates
contained arsenic! Not enough to kill anyone, but enough to make anyone
quite ill."
"Extraordinary," commented Tommy.
"Dr. Burton was very excited over the matter. It seems that this was
the third occurrence of the kind in the neighborhood. In each case a
big house was selected, and the inmates were taken ill after eating the
mysterious chocolates. It looked as though some local person of weak
intellect was playing a particularly fiendish practical joke."
"Quite so, Miss Hargreaves."
"Dr. Burton put it down to Socialist agitation--rather absurdly, I
thought. But there are one or two malcontents in Thurnly village, and
it seemed possible that they might have had something to do with it.
Dr. Burton was very keen that I should put the whole thing in the hands
of the police."
"A very natural suggestion," said Tommy. "But you have not done so, I
gather, Miss Hargreaves?"
"No," admitted the girl. "I hate the fuss and the publicity that would
ensue--and you see, I know our local Inspector. I can never imagine him
finding out anything! I have often seen your advertisements, and I told
Dr. Burton that it would be much better to call in a private detective."
"I see."
"You say a great deal about discretion in your advertisement. I take
that to mean--that--that--well, that you would not make anything public
without my consent?"
Tommy looked at her curiously, but it was Tuppence who spoke.
"I think," she said quietly, "that it would be as well if Miss
Hargreaves told us _everything_."
She laid especial stress upon the last word, and Lois Hargreaves
flushed nervously.
"Yes," said Tommy quickly. "Miss Robinson is right. You must tell us
everything."
"You will not--" she hesitated.
"Everything you say is understood to be strictly in confidence."
"Thank you. I know that I ought to have been quite frank with you.
I have a reason for not going to the police. Mr. Blunt, that box of
chocolates was sent by someone in our house!"
"How do you know that, Mademoiselle?"
"It's very simple. I've got a habit of drawing a little silly
thing--three fish intertwined--whenever I have a pencil in my hand. A
parcel of silk stockings arrived from a certain shop in London not long
ago. We were at the breakfast table. I'd just been marking something in
the newspaper, and without thinking, I began to draw my silly little
fish on the label of the parcel before cutting the string and opening
it. I thought no more about the matter, but when I was examining the
piece of brown paper in which the chocolates had been sent, I caught
sight of the corner of the original label--most of which had been torn
off. My silly little drawing was on it."
Tommy drew his chair forward.
"That is very serious. It creates, as you say, a very strong
presumption that the sender of the chocolates is a member of your
household. But you will forgive me if I say that I still do not see why
that fact should render you indisposed to call in the police?"
Lois Hargreaves looked him squarely in the face.
"I will tell you, Mr. Blunt. I may want the whole thing hushed up."
Tommy retired gracefully from the position.
"In that case," he murmured, "we know where we are. I see, Miss
Hargreaves, that you are not disposed to tell me who it is you suspect?"
"I suspect no one--but there are possibilities."
"Quite so. Now will you describe the household to me in detail?"
"The servants, with the exception of the parlormaid, are all old ones
who have been with us many years. I must explain to you, Mr. Blunt,
that I was brought up by my Aunt, Lady Radclyffe, who was extremely
wealthy. Her husband made a big fortune, and was knighted. It was he
who bought Thurnly Grange, but he died two years after going there,
and it was then that Lady Radclyffe sent for me to come and make my
home with her. I was her only living relation. The other inmate of the
house was Dennis Radclyffe, her husband's nephew. I have always called
him cousin, but of course he is really nothing of the kind. Aunt Lucy
always said openly that she intended to leave her money, with the
exception of a small provision for me, to Dennis. It was Radclyffe
money, she said, and ought to go to a Radclyffe. However, when Dennis
was twenty-two, she quarrelled violently with him--over some debts that
he had run up, I think. When she died, a year later, I was astonished
to find that she had made a will leaving all her money to me. It was, I
know, a great blow to Dennis, and I felt very badly about it. I would
have given him the money if he would have taken it, but it seems that
that kind of thing can't be done. However, as soon as I was twenty-one,
I made a will leaving it all to him. That's the least I can do. So if
I'm run over by a motor, Dennis will come into his own."
"Exactly," said Tommy. "And when were you twenty-one, if I may ask the
question?"
"Just three weeks ago."
"Ah!" said Tommy. "Now will you give me fuller particulars of the
members of your household at this minute?"
"Servants--or--others?"
"Both."
"The servants, as I say, have been with us some time. There is old Mrs.
Holloway, the cook, and her niece Rose, the kitchenmaid. Then there are
two elderly housemaids, and Hannah who was my aunt's maid and who has
always been devoted to me. The parlormaid is called Esther Quant, and
seems a very nice quiet girl. As for ourselves, there is Miss Logan who
was Aunt Lucy's companion and who runs the house for me, and Captain
Radclyffe--Dennis, you know, whom I told you about, and there is a girl
called Mary Chilcott, an old school friend of mine who is staying with
us."
Tommy thought for a moment.
"That all seems fairly clear and straightforward, Miss Hargreaves," he
said after a minute or two. "I take it that you have no special reason
for attaching suspicion more to one person than another? You are only
afraid it might prove to be--well--not a servant, shall we say?"
"That's it exactly, Mr. Blunt. I have honestly no idea who used that
piece of brown paper. The handwriting was printed."
"There seems only one thing to be done," said Tommy. "I must be on the
spot."
The girl looked at him inquiringly.
Tommy went on after a moment's thought.
"I suggest that you prepare the way for the arrival of--say, Mr. and
Miss Van Dusen--American friends of yours. Will you be able to do that
quite naturally?"
"Oh! yes. There will be no difficulty at all. When will you come
down--to-morrow--or the day after?"
"To-morrow, if you please. There is no time to waste."
"That is settled, then."
The girl rose, and held out her hand.
"One thing, Miss Hargreaves, not a word, mind, to anyone--anyone at
all, that we are not what we seem."
"What do you think of it, Tuppence?" he asked, when he returned from
showing the visitor out.
"I don't like it," said Tuppence decidedly. "Especially I don't like
the chocolates having so little arsenic in them."
"What _do_ you mean?"
"Don't you see? All those chocolates being sent round the neighborhood
were a blind. To establish the idea of a local maniac. Then, when the
girl was really poisoned, it would be thought to be the same thing. You
see, but for a stroke of luck, no one would ever have guessed that the
chocolates were actually sent by someone in the house itself."
"That was a stroke of luck. You're right. You think it's a deliberate
plot against the girl herself?"
"I'm afraid so. I remember reading about old Lady Radclyffe's will.
That girl has come into a terrific lot of money."
"Yes, and she came of age and made a will three weeks ago. It looks
bad--for Dennis Radclyffe. He gains by her death."
Tuppence nodded.
"The worst of it is--that she thinks so too! That's why she won't have
the police called in. Already she suspects him. And she must be more
than half in love with him to act as she has done."
"In that case," said Tommy thoughtfully, "why the devil doesn't he
marry her? Much simpler and safer."
Tuppence stared at him.
"You've said a mouthful," she observed. "Oh! boy. I'm getting ready to
be Miss Van Dusen, you observe."
"Why rush to crime, where there is a lawful means near at hand?"
Tuppence reflected for a minute or two.
"I've got it," she announced. "Clearly he must have married a barmaid
whilst at Oxford. Origin of the quarrel with his aunt. That explains
everything."
"Then why not send poisoned sweets to the barmaid?" suggested
Tommy. "Much more practical. I wish you wouldn't jump to these wild
conclusions, Tuppence."
"They're deductions," said Tuppence, with a good deal of dignity. "This
is your first _corrida_, my friend, but when you have been twenty
minutes in the arena--"
Tommy flung the office cushion at her.