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‘Ye-es,’ said Mr Marvell slowly. ‘But I don’t see what you’re driving at?’
‘Don’t you? I’m not so sure that I do myself. But I’m beginning to see. It’s like the stick, Tuppence. You remember? One end of it pointed one way – but the other end always points the opposite way. It depends whether you get hold of it by the right end. Doors open – but they also shut. People go upstairs, but they also go downstairs. Boxes shut, but they also open.’
‘What do you mean?’ demanded Tuppence.
‘It’s so ridiculously easy, really,’ said Tommy. ‘And yet it’s only just come to me. How do you know when a person’s come into the house. You hear the door open and bang to, and if you’re expecting any one to come in, you will be quite sure it is them. But it might just as easily be someone going out.’
‘But Miss Glen didn’t go out?’
‘No, I know she didn’t. But some one else did – the murderer.’
‘But how did she get in, then?’
‘She came in whilst Mrs Honeycott was in the kitchen talking to Ellen. They didn’t hear her. Mrs Honeycott went back to the drawing-room, wondered if her sister had come in and began to put the clock right, and then, as she thought, she heard her come in and go upstairs.’
‘Well, what about that? The footsteps going upstairs?’
‘That was Ellen, going up to draw the curtains. You remember, Mrs Honeycott said her sister paused before going up. That pause was just the time needed for Ellen to come out from the kitchen into the hall. She just missed seeing the murderer.’
‘But, Tommy,’ cried Tuppence. ‘The cry she gave?’
‘That was James Reilly. Didn’t you notice what a high-pitched voice he has? In moments of great emotion, men often squeal just like a woman.’
‘But the murderer? We’d have seen him?’
‘We did see him. We even stood talking to him. Do you remember the sudden way that policeman appeared? That was because he stepped out of the gate, just after the mist cleared from the road. It made us jump, don’t you remember? After all, though we never think of them as that, policemen are men just like any other men. They love and they hate. They marry . . .
‘I think Gilda Glen met her husband suddenly just outside that gate, and took him in with her to thrash the matter out. He hadn’t Reilly’s relief of violent words, remember. He just saw red – and he had his truncheon handy . . .’
Chapter 8
The Crackler
‘The Crackler’ was first published as ‘The Affair of the Forged Notes’ in The Sketch, 19 November 1924. The Busies were created by Edgar Wallace (1875–1932).
‘Tuppence,’ said Tommy. ‘We shall have to move into a much larger office.’
‘Nonsense,’ said Tuppence. ‘You mustn’t get swollen-headed and think you are a millionaire just because you solved two or three twopenny half-penny cases with the aid of the most amazing luck.’
‘What some call luck, others call skill.’
‘Of course, if you really think you are Sherlock Holmes, Thorndyke, McCarty and the Brothers Okewood all rolled into one, there is no more to be said. Personally I would much rather have luck on my side than all the skill in the world.’
‘Perhaps there is something in that,’ conceded Tommy. ‘All the same, Tuppence, we do need a larger office.’
‘Why?’
‘The classics,’ said Tommy. ‘We need several hundreds of yards of extra bookshelf if Edgar Wallace is to be properly represented.’
‘We haven’t had an Edgar Wallace case yet.’
‘I’m afraid we never shall,’ said Tommy. ‘If you notice he never does give the amateur sleuth much of a chance. It is all stern Scotland Yard kind of stuff – the real thing and no base counterfeit.’
Albert, the office boy, appeared at the door.
‘Inspector Marriot to see you,’ he announced.
‘The mystery man of Scotland Yard,’ murmured Tommy.
‘The busiest of the Busies,’ said Tuppence. ‘Or is it “Noses”? I always get mixed between Busies and Noses.’
The Inspector advanced upon them with a beaming smile of welcome.
‘Well, and how are things?’ he asked breezily. ‘None the worse for our little adventure the other day?’
‘Oh, rather not,’ said Tuppence. ‘Too, too marvellous, wasn’t it?’
‘Well, I don’t know that I would describe it exactly that way myself,’ said Marriot cautiously.
‘What has brought you here today, Marriot?’ asked Tommy. ‘Not just solicitude for our nervous systems, is it?’
‘No,’ said the Inspector. ‘It is work for the brilliant Mr Blunt.’
‘Ha!’ said Tommy. ‘Let me put my brilliant expression on.’
‘I have come to make you a proposition, Mr Beresford. What would you say to rounding up a really big gang?’
‘Is there such a thing?’ asked Tommy.
‘What do you mean, is there such a thing?’
‘I always thought that gangs were confined to fiction – like master crooks and super criminals.’
‘The master crook isn’t very common,’ agreed the Inspector. ‘But Lord bless you, sir, there’s any amount of gangs knocking about.’
‘I don’t know that I should be at my best dealing with a gang,’ said Tommy. ‘The amateur crime, the crime of quiet family life – that is where I flatter myself that I shine. Drama of strong domestic interest. That’s the thing – with Tuppence at hand to supply all those little feminine details which are so important, and so apt to be ignored by the denser male.’
His eloquence was arrested abruptly as Tuppence threw a cushion at him and requested him not to talk nonsense.
‘Will have your little bit of fun, won’t you, sir?’ said Inspector Marriot, smiling paternally at them both. ‘If you’ll not take offence at my saying so, it’s a pleasure to see two young people enjoying life as much as you two do.’
‘Do we enjoy life?’ said Tuppence, opening her eyes very wide. ‘I suppose we do. I’ve never thought about it before.’
‘To return to that gang you were talking about,’ said Tommy. ‘In spite of my extensive private practice – duchesses, millionaires, and all the best charwomen – I might, perhaps, condescend to look into the matter for you. I don’t like to see Scotland Yard at fault. You’ll have the Daily Mail after you before you know where you are.’
‘As I said before, you must have your bit of fun. Well, it’s like this.’ Again he hitched his chair forward. ‘There’s any amount of forged notes going about just now – hundreds of ’em! The amount of counterfeit Treasury notes in circulation would surprise you. Most artistic bit of work it is. Here’s one of ’em.’
He took a one pound note from his pocket and handed it to Tommy.
‘Looks all right, doesn’t it?’
Tommy