“You know!” I gasped.

“It may interest you to hear that it was Pagett who gave the show away. He insisted on boring me with a long pointless story about a wager and a tin of films. It didn’t take me long to put two and two together⁠— Mrs. Blair’s distrust of Colonel Race, her agitation, her entreaty that I would take care of her souvenirs for her. The excellent Pagett had already unfastened the cases through an excess of zeal. Before leaving the hotel, I simply transferred all the rolls of films to my own pocket. They are in the corner there. I admit that I haven’t had time to examine them yet, but I notice that one is of a totally different weight to the others, rattles in a peculiar fashion, and has evidently been stuck down with seccotine, which will necessitate the use of a tin opener. The case seems clear, does it not? And now, you see, I have you both nicely in the trap.⁠ ⁠… It’s a pity that you didn’t take kindly to the idea of becoming Lady Pedler.”

I did not answer. I stood looking at him.