to be, Sherlock Holmes still?”
“I think I need practice for that,” said Tommy. “I came rather a cropper over that bus ticket, didn’t I?”
“You did,” said Tuppence. “If I were you I shouldn’t try too much on that girl—she’s as sharp as a needle. She’s unhappy too, poor devil.”
“I suppose you know all about her already,” said Tommy with sarcasm, “simply from looking at the shape of her nose!”
“I’ll tell you my idea of what we shall find at The Laurels,” said Tuppence, quite unmoved.
“A household of snobs, very keen to move in the best society; the father, if there is a father, is sure to have a military title. The girl falls in with their way of life and despises herself for doing so.”
Tommy took a last look at the books now neatly arranged upon a shelf.
“I think,” he said thoughtfully, “that I shall be Thorndyke today.”
“I shouldn’t have thought there was anything medico-legal about this case,” remarked Tuppence.
“Perhaps not,” said Tommy. “But I’m simply dying to use that new camera of mine! It’s supposed to have the most marvelous lens that ever was or ever could be.”
“I know those kind of lenses,” said Tuppence. “By the time you’ve adjusted the shutter and stopped down and calculated the exposure and kept your eyes on the spirit level, your brain gives out, and