Late that evening, there was a ring at the bell, and somewhat to the astonishment of the young pair, Inspector Marriot once more walked in.
“I thought Blunt’s Brilliant Detectives would like to hear the latest developments,” he said, with a hint of a smile.
“They would,” said Tommy. “Have a drink?”
He placed materials hospitably at Inspector Marriot’s elbow.
“It’s a clear case,” said the latter, after a minute or two. “Dagger was the lady’s own—the idea was to have made it look like suicide, evidently, but thanks to you two being on the spot, that didn’t come off. We’ve found plenty of letters—they’d been carrying on together for some time, that’s clear—without Sir Arthur tumbling to it. Then we found the last link—”
“The last what?” said Tuppence sharply.
“The last link in the chain—that fragment of the Daily Leader . It was torn from the dress he wore—fits exactly. Oh! yes, it’s a perfectly clear case. By the way, I brought round a photograph of those two exhibits—I thought they might interest you. It’s very seldom that you get such a perfectly clear case.”
“Tommy,” said Tuppence, when her husband returned from showing the Scotland Yard man out. “Why do you think Inspector Marriot keeps repeating that it’s a perfectly clear case?”
“I don’t know. Smug satisfaction, I suppose.”
“Not a bit of it. He’s trying to get us irritated. You know, Tommy, butchers, for instance, know something about meat, don’t they?”
“I should say so, but what on earth—”