“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