“Right. Mind you don’t touch the handle of that dagger, Tuppence.”
“I’ll be careful. Go quickly.”
Tommy hurried out, pulling the doors to behind him. Tuppence passed her arm around the girl. The latter made a faint gesture, and Tuppence realised that she wanted to get rid of the mask. Tuppence unfastened it gently. She saw a fresh flower-like face, and wide starry eyes that were full of horror, suffering, and a kind of dazed bewilderment.
“My dear,” said Tuppence, very gently. “Can you speak at all? Will you tell me, if you can, who did this?”
She felt the eyes fix themselves on her face. The girl was sighing, the deep palpitating sighs of a failing heart. And still she looked steadily at Tuppence. Then her lips parted.
“Bingo did it—” she said in a strained whisper.
Then her hands relaxed, and she seemed to nestle down on Tuppence’s shoulder.
Tommy came in, two men with him. The bigger of the two came forward with an air of authority, the word, doctor, written all over him.
Tuppence relinquished her burden.
“She’s dead, I’m afraid,” she said with a catch in her voice.
The doctor made a swift examination.
“Yes,” he said. “Nothing to be done. We had better leave things as they are till the police come. How did the thing happen?”
Tuppence explained rather haltingly, slurring over her reasons for entering the booth.