four baffling murder mysteries, rounded up a gang of counterfeiters, ditto gang of smugglers—”
“Actually two gangs,” interpolated Tommy. “So we have! I’m glad of that. ‘Gangs’ sounds so professional.”
Tuppence continued, ticking off the items on her fingers.
“One jewel robbery, two escapes from violent death, one case of missing lady reducing her figure, one young girl befriended, an alibi successfully exploded, and alas! one case where we made utter fools of ourselves. On the whole, jolly good! We’re very clever, I think.”
“You would think so,” said Tommy. “You always do. Now I have a secret feeling that once or twice we’ve been rather lucky.”
“Nonsense,” said Tuppence. “All done by the little grey cells.”
“Well, I was damned