“I shan’t butt in. What I’m proposing is an interesting experiment in detective work. We need practice.”
“Business is certainly not too brisk,” agreed Tommy. “All the same, Tuppence, what you want is to go to the Three Arts Ball and dance! Talk of red herrings.”
Tuppence laughed shamelessly.
“Be a sport, Tommy. Try and forget you’re thirty-two and have got one grey hair in your left eyebrow.”
“I was always weak where women were concerned,” murmured her husband. “Have I got to make an ass of myself in fancy dress?”
“Of course, but you can leave that to me. I’ve got a splendid idea.”
Tommy looked at her with some misgiving. He was always profoundly mistrustful of Tuppence’s brilliant ideas.
When he returned to the flat on the following evening, Tuppence came flying out of her bedroom to meet him.
“It’s come,” she announced.
“What’s come?”
“The costume. Come and look at it.”
Tommy followed her. Spread out on the bed was a complete fireman’s kit with shining helmet.