dainty pink tins, and emptied it on the table. The girl laughed.
“Genuine crystals, eh?” said Tommy. “Nothing more deadly than carbonate of soda?”
“Try the safe,” suggested Tuppence.
There was a small wall safe in the corner. The key was in the lock.
Tommy swung it open and gave a shout of satisfaction. The back of the safe opened out into a big recess in the wall, and that recess was stacked with the same elegant tins of bath salts.
- Rows and rows of them.
He took one out and prised up the lid. The top showed the same pink crystals, but underneath was a fine white powder.
The Inspector uttered an ejaculation.
“You’ve got it, sir. Ten to one, that tin’s full of pure cocaine. We knew there was a distributing area somewhere round here, handy to the West End, but we haven’t been able to get a clue to it. This is a fine coup of yours, sir.”
“Rather a triumph for Blunt’s Brilliant Detectives,” said Tommy to Tuppence, as they emerged into the street together.
“It’s a great thing to be a married man. Your persistent schooling has at last taught me to recognize peroxide when I see it. Golden hair has got to be the genuine article to take me in. We will concoct a business like letter to the Ambassador, informing him that the matter has been dealt with satisfactorily. And now, my dear fellow, what about tea, and lots of hot buttered muffins?”