‘Very good. Since we met at the Grampian on the night of Albert’s accident, Thackeray and I have seen you on four other occasions. We were led to understand at the Grampian that it was the manager there, Mr Goodly, who had engaged your services. Was that correct?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘You were there in a precautionary capacity, in addition to the usual police patrols?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you investigated the circumstances of Albert’s accident, and traced him to Philbeach House?’
‘Yes.’
‘What happened after that, sir?’
‘I was given the sack. I told Goodly what was happening at Philbeach House from my observations there, but once the blighter knew there wasn’t likely to be another accident at the Grampian he didn’t need my services any more. I was demobilised quicker than a coolie with cholera.’
‘Yet you’re keeping up your interest in the case,’ said Cribb. ‘Has anyone else engaged you?’
‘No such luck,’ said the Major. ‘But if the Yard wants assistance, I’m open to offers.’
Cribb smiled. ‘Well if no-one’s paying you, where’s the profit in continuing with your inquiries?’
‘God, you’ve got a mercenary mind. Sergeant. Take a look in that corner behind you.’
Cribb glanced over his shoulder. Two piles of newspapers, painstakingly folded and stacked to a height of three or four feet, rested on a small table there.
‘The Times and The Morning Post,’ said the Major. ‘I’m a man of method, and when I planned to set myself up as a private investigator I went to see an old army colleague who had made something of a study of detective methods. “How do I start?” I said. “Study the personal columns every morning,” he told me. So I have, for eight months. And you’d be surprised at the knowledge I’ve acquired, Sergeant. I know every patent remedy for rheumatism there is. I can tell you when your old boys’ association are having their A.G.M. Interesting information, you understand, but it isn’t yielding dividends yet.’
‘You haven’t had many matters to investigate, sir?’
‘Two. The first was the whereabouts of the newspaper delivery boy the week he went down with mumps. The second was Mr Goodly’s assignment. Now do you understand my reluctance to give up the case? I’ve had enough of reading newspapers. I want some action. And by Jove, this case is providing it! When I set up my campaign headquarters here I wasn’t anticipating a murder inquiry.’
‘Well, we’ve got one now, sir, and a very urgent inquiry it’s become, as you’ll no doubt appreciate.’
‘Indeed I do! What’s going to happen next Tuesday night at the Paragon if there’s a murderer loose in the house? The consequences could be appalling! Dammit, Sergeant, I’m a commissioned officer . . . oath of loyalty and so forth. There was a time when I was determined to solve this case alone, but I know where my duty lies. I’m putting my resources at your disposal, gentlemen.’
‘That’s uncommon generous of you, Major,’ said Cribb, entering into the spirit of the offer. ‘Shall we discuss strategy at the table?’
Thackeray watched incredulously as the sergeant picked up a swagger-stick from the mantelpiece and approached the map of London in a business-like manner. Was he actually going to play soldiers with the Major? Maps and tactical discussions were about as relevant to Cribb’s methods of detection as a manual of etiquette.
The Major provided more illumination by lighting a paraffin-lamp suspended over the table. Thackeray took up a position at Woolwich, where the Thames reached its limit.
‘We shall need something to mark Philbeach House,’ said Cribb. ‘The stopper of that bottle on the shelf behind you, if you please, Thackeray.’
Major Chick held up a restraining hand. ‘A most appropriate emblem, Sergeant, but I don’t think Prussic Acid fumes would help our deliberations.’
‘Prussia . . . ?’ Thackeray peered at the label on the bottle. ‘That’s what it says, Sarge.’
‘There isn’t much left,’ said the Major, ‘but enough to blight three promising careers if we stayed here long enough with the stopper out.’
‘What do you keep it for?’ asked Cribb, as casually as if he were inquiring about a household pet.
The Major slapped his thigh and laughed uproariously. ‘You think that I . . . ? Good Lord, I wouldn’t keep the blasted bottle on my shelf if I had! No, Sergeant, I picked it up yesterday afternoon at Philbeach House. The late Mr Body was a bit of a scientist, you know. There’s a roomful of his paraphernalia there, optical instruments, electrical dynamos, magnets, photographic apparatus and several shelves loaded with chemicals. This bottle was among ’em.’
‘Available to any of the guests at Philbeach House?’ queried Cribb.
‘Readily available. The room wasn’t locked.’ The Major handed the bottle to Cribb. ‘Scrutinise it carefully, Sergeant. Do you notice the lines that have formed on the inside, showing the various levels of the acid as it was used? Do you see how clear the glass is between the last mark and the small amount remaining? Must be three inches at least. That indicates to me that the last person to take acid from that bottle took a deuced large amount. I think this may be important evidence. Don’t you agree?’
‘It’s a valuable find, Major,’ said Cribb, ‘and I’d like to express my gratitude to you for handing it over to the proper authorities in this way. We’ll get someone at the Yard to test your theories about the encrustment on the inside. You’ve a decent-sized overcoat pocket, there, Thackeray. See if you can get it inside, will you? Did you pick up any other evidence, Major?’
If the Major had, he was not saying so.
‘In that case, let’s plan our troop emplacements,’ continued Cribb, his object achieved. ‘We’ll use this halfpenny for Philbeach House. It seems to me that there are two points at which we should concentrate our forces.’ He tapped the halfpenny and one of the champagne corks. ‘Mrs Body’s establishment, and Mr Plunkett’s. Any comments, Major?’
‘Seems reasonable,’ said the Major, with a sniff.
‘Good. Now it’s sound strategy, I suggest, to dispose our forces according to the platoon strength. Wouldn’t you agree, Major?’
A nod from the Major.
‘So that the platoon with the greater number of personnel concentrates on the point on the map where the enemy are ranged in the greater strength.’ Cribb tapped the halfpenny again.
‘You and the constable go to Philbeach House. I take the Paragon,’ said the Major.
‘Thank you, sir. That’s a handsome offer,’ said Cribb, tucking the swagger-stick under his arm-pit. ‘We’re all in agreement, then. Any questions, gentlemen?’
‘Yes,’ said the Major. ‘What shall I say to Plunkett?’
Cribb locked his hands behind his back and patrolled his side of the table, about-turning each time he reached the corner. It seemed to Thackeray that he was enjoying himself. ‘It’s the devil of an assignment, I know, Major, but I think you’re the only man who can handle it. We need to discover whether there can possibly have been a reason for Plunkett murdering Miss Pinkus. Blackmail seems the likeliest motive, but we need facts. I suppose we can’t rule out passion either. Unrequited love—’
‘But you don’t think Plunkett did it himself?’ said the Major. ‘It’s obvious who murdered Miss Pinkus.’
‘Who’s that?’
‘Mrs Body. Dammit, Sergeant, she had her husband’s bottle of acid to hand. She detested Lola Pinkus; the girl was making life impossible at Philbeach House. Didn’t you talk to Mrs Body? There were dreadful scenes. Open fights on occasions. Lola made trouble whenever she could, insulting the ladies and flirting with the men. She even set out to seduce poor old Virgo out of sheer malice—you know Mrs Body’s sweet on Virgo, don’t you?’