Richmond, they do put Richmond Surrey. That’s because there are two Richmonds.”
Tommy, who was driving, slowed up.
“Tuppence,” he said affectionately. “Your idea is not so dusty. Let us make inquiries at yonder post office.”
They drew up before a small building in the middle of a village street. A very few minutes sufficed to elicit the information that there were two Maldons. Maldon, Surrey, and Maldon, Sussex, the latter a tiny hamlet but possessed of a telegraph office.
“That’s it,” said Tuppence excitedly. “Stavansson knew Maldon was in Surrey, so he hardly looked at the word beginning with S after Maldon.”
“Tomorrow,” said Tommy. “We’ll have a look at Maldon, Sussex.”
Maldon, Sussex, was a very different proposition to its Surrey namesake. It was four miles from a railway station, possessed two public houses, two small shops, a post and telegraph office combined with a sweet and picture postcard business, and about seven small cottages. Tuppence took on the shops whilst Tommy betook himself to the Cock and Sparrow. They met half an hour later.
“Well?” said Tuppence.
“Quite good beer,” said Tommy, “but no information.”
“You’d better try the King’s Head,” said Tuppence. “I’m going back to the post office. There’s a sour old woman there, but I heard them yell to her that dinner was ready.”
She returned to the place, and began examining postcards. A fresh-faced girl, still munching, came out of the back room.