Albert, summoned and questioned, seemed very astonished. He swore he had only torn off one leaf—that of the day before. His statement was presently supported, for whereas the leaf torn off by Albert was found in the grate, the succeeding ones were lying neatly in the waste paper basket.
“A neat and methodical criminal,” said Tommy. “Who’s been here this morning, Albert? A client of any kind?”
“Just one, sir.”
“What was he like?”
“It was a she. A Hospital Nurse. Very upset and anxious to see you. Said she’d wait until you came. I put her in ‘Clerks’ because it was warmer.”
“And from there she could walk in here, of course, without your seeing her. How long has she been gone?”
“About half an hour, sir. Said she’d call again this afternoon. A nice motherly looking body.”
“A nice motherly—oh! get out, Albert.”
Albert withdrew, injured.
“Queer start, that,” said Tommy. “It seems a little purposeless. Puts us on our guard. I suppose there isn’t a bomb concealed in the fireplace or anything of that kind?”
He reassured himself on that point, then he seated himself at the desk and addressed Tuppence.
“ Mon ami ,” he said. “We are here faced with a matter of the utmost gravity. You recall, do you not, the man who was No. 4. Him whom I crushed like an egg shell in the Dolomites—with the aid of high