“If so, it is rather a sitter for us,” said Tommy. “Well, I suppose we might as well go and interview Mr. le Marchant.”
Mr. le Marchant proved to be a breezy youth who betrayed no great surprise on seeing them.
“Una has got some little game on, hasn’t she?” he asked. “You never know what that kid is up to.”
“I understand, Mr. le Marchant,” said Tommy, “that Miss Drake had supper with you at the Savoy last Tuesday evening.”
“That’s right,” said Mr. le Marchant. “I know it was Tuesday because Una impressed it on me at the time and what’s more she made me write it down in a little book.”
With some pride he showed an entry faintly pencilled: “Having supper with 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 like that. 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 dashed odd. She said, what was it now? ‘You think you are sitting here having supper with me, Jimmy, but really, I am having supper two hundred miles away in Devonshire.’ Now that was a dashed odd thing to say,