"Don't trouble," said Charles. "I'm not buying it."
The little man smiled tolerantly. "No, sir? Well I don't know as how I should expect a gentleman to be interested in this here cleaner, not but what I 'ave sold to bachelors many a time. But I hope when your good lady sees the dust and dirt which this here cleaner has extracted from all carpets, upholstered chairs, curtains, and etcetera, she'll be tempted to give me an order, which the firm which I 'ave the honour to represent will execute with their custom'ry dispatch."
"And what is the name of the firm you have the honour to represent?" Charles inquired blandly.
If he expected the invader to be embarrassed he was disappointed.
"Allow me, sir!" beamed the little man, and inserting a finger and thumb into his waistcoat pocket he drew out a card, which he handed to Charles.
It was an ordinary trade-card, bearing the name and address of a firm in the city, and purporting to belong to a Mr. James Fripp.
""That's me name, sir," explained Mr. Fripp, pointing it out. "And I 'ope that when ordering you will 'ave the goodness to mention it, supposing I can't tempt you to give me an order now, which I 'ope I shall do when you 'ave seen for yourself that this here cleaner is all that we claim it to be."
Charles put the card carefully into his pocket-book. "We'll see," he said. "Do I understand that you propose to clean all the rooms of the house for us?"
"I'm sure I shall be pleased to, sir, but if you're satisfied, "awing seen what 'as been effected under your own eye…
"Oh no!" Charles said pleasantly. "For all I know it might break down before it had gone over half the house." Mr. Fripp looked reproachful. "This here cleaner," he said, "is constructed in such a way that it can't go wrong. I should mention that we give a year's guarantee with it, as is usual. But I shall be pleased to take it over every room in the 'ouse, to convince you, sir, of the truth of all I say."
"Excellent," said Charles. "And in case I make up my mind to buy it I'll send my man up to watch you, so that he will know in future how to manipulate it."
"That," said Mr. Fripp, "is as you like, sir, but I should like to assure you that a child could work this here cleaner."
"Nevertheless," said Charles, stepping to the bell-rope, and jerking it sharply, "I should like Bowers to - observe what you do."
Those quick-glancing eyes darted to his face for an instant. "I'm sure I shall be pleased to show him all I can, sir," Mr. Fripp said, not quite so enthusiastically.
Charles' smile was a little grim. When Bowers appeared in answer to the bell, he told him that he was to accompany Mr. Fripp from room to room, and closely to watch all he did. Mr. Fripp looked at him sideways.
"Yes, sir," Bowers said, a trifle perplexed. "But I haven't served the sweet yet, sir."
"Never mind," said Charles. "We'll manage on our own. You stay with Mr. Fripp — in case his cleaner goes out of action. And just see that he doesn't knock the panelling with it. We don't want any scratches."
"No, sir, very good," Bowers said, and resigned himself to his fate.
But the look that Mr. Fripp cast on Charles' vanishing form was one of something bordering on acute dislike.
In the dining-room Charles was greeted by a demand from his wife to explain what on earth was the matter with him.
"If," said Charles, resuming his seat, "you would occasionally employ your brain, dear love, you might realise that the last thing we desire is a stranger let loose in the house. Oh, and if anyone wants any pudding he or she will have to get it for themselves, as Bowers is otherwise engaged."
"It's on the sideboard," Celia said. "But really, Chas, I don't quite see what harm a man selling a vacuumcleaner can do. And I asked him for his card, just to be on the safe side."
"Was it our friend at the Bell?" Peter asked.
"It was. I am happy to think that I've given him a nice, solid afternoon's work." He inspected Mr. Fripp's card again. "Yes. I think this is where one calls for a little outside assistance."
Celia pricked up her ears. "Not Flinders again!" she begged.
"No, not Flinders," Charles said. "I should be loth to interrupt his entomological studies. But I feel a few discreet inquiries might be put through."
"If you're going to call in Scotland Yard, I for one object," Peter said. "We've no data for them, and they'll merely think us credulous asses."
Charles slipped his table-napkin into its ring, and got up. "I can hardly improve on the favourite dictum of Mr. Flinders," he said with dignity. "You don't need to tell me how to act."
"Well, what are you going to do?" Margaret asked.
"Write a letter," Charles answered, and went out.
Peter presently ran him to earth in the small study at the front of the house. "Why the mystery?" he inquired. "Are you getting an inquiry agent on to James Fripp?"
"I am," Charles said, directing the envelope. "There's a chap I've once or twice had dealings with who'll do the job very well."
"What about Strange? Think it's worth while setting your sleuth on him?"
"I did consider it, but I think not. As far as Fripp's concerned it ought to be fairly easy, since I've got his card. Brown can get on to this firm he apparently works for. But regarding Strange we've nothing to give Brown to start on. If he's a wrong 'un it's highly unlikely that Strange is his real name. The man we want now is friend Flinders."
Peter groaned. "Do we? Why?"
"To find out a little more concerning M. Louis Duval. I'm rather surprised Flinders hasn't mentioned him."
But the reason for this omission was soon forthcoming. Flinders, when they visited him in his cottage later that afternoon, said with considerable hauteur that they had only asked him questions about the gentry. "And that Dooval," he added, "ain't gentry, besides being a furriner. You've only got to look at the place he lives in. Pig-sty ain't in it. What's more, he does for himself. Ah, and in more ways than one!" He permitted himself to give vent to a hoarse crack of laughter at his own wit. "But what I meant was, he doesn't have no one up to clean the place for hirn, nor cook his breakfast." He shook his head. "He's a disgrace to the neighbourhood, that's what he is. He goes round painting them pictures what no one can make 'ead nor tail of as I ever heard on, and half the time he's drunk as a lord. Getting worse, he is. Why, I remember when he first come here, barring the fact of his being a furriner, there wasn't really much you could take exception to about him. Very quiet, he used to be, and you never saw him in drink more'n was respectable, though there are some as say that it ain't only drink as is his trouble."
"Drugs?" Charles said. "I rather suspected as much."
"Mind you, I never said so," Mr. Flinders warned him, "nor I wouldn't, me knowing my duty too well. But Mrs. Fellowes, what I told you about before - her as is housekeeper to Mr. Titmarsh - she spread it about that Dooval was one of those dope-fiends you read about in the News of the World. And the reason she had for saying it was on account of her working for a gentleman in London once, what was in the 'abit of taking drugs, which she said made her reckernise it right off."
"By the way," Peter interrupted, "how is Mr. Titmarsh getting on?"
The constable shook his head. "Ah, now you're asking, sir. Well, I don't mind telling you that when you first came here asking me questions about him, I didn't set much store by it. But I been keeping a close watch on him, sir, like I said I would, and I'm bound to say he's fishy."
"What's he done?"
""That," said Mr. Flinders cautiously, "I couldn't go so far as to say, him having got into the habit of giving me the slip. Behaves like as if he knew he was being followed, and didn't wish for anyone to see what he was up to." An odd sound proceeding from Charles made him turn his head inquiringly. "You was saying, sir?"