"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-"
"And in the same way, greengrocers know all about vegetables, and fishermen about fish. Detectives, professional detectives, must know all about criminals. They know the real thing when they see it-and they know when it isn't the real thing. Marriot's expert knowledge tells him that Captain Hale isn't a criminal-but all the facts are dead against him.
As a last resource Marriot is egging us on, hoping against hope that some little detail or other will come back to us- something that happened last night-which will throw a different light on things.
Tommy, why shouldn't it be suicide, after all?"
"Remember what she said to you."
"I know-but take that a different way. It was Bingo's doing-his conduct that drove her to kill herself. It's just possible."
"Just. But it doesn't explain that fragment of newspaper."
"Let's have a look at Marriot's photographs. I forgot to ask him what Hale's account of the matter was."
"I asked him that in the hall just now. Hale declared he had never spoken to Lady Merivale at the show. Says somebody shoved a note into his hand which said: "Don't try and speak to me to-night. Arthur suspects." He couldn't produce the piece of paper, though, and it doesn't sound a very likely story. Anyway, you and I know he was with her at the Ace of Spades because we saw him."
Tuppence nodded and pored over the two photographs. One was a tiny fragment with the legend DAILY LE-and the rest torn off. The other was the front sheet of the Daily Leader with the small round tear at the top of it. There was no doubt about it. The two fitted together perfectly.
"What are all those marks down the side?" asked Tommy.
"Stitches," said Tuppence. "Where is was sewn to the others, you know." "I thought it might be a new scheme of dots," said Tommy. Then he gave a slight shiver. "My word, Tuppence, how creepy it makes one feel. To think that you and I were discussing dots and puzzling over that advertisement all as lighthearted as anything."
Tuppence did not answer. Tommy looked at her, and was startled to observe that she was staring ahead of her, her mouth slightly open, and a bewildered expression on her face.
"Tuppence," said Tommy gently, shaking her by the arm. "What's the matter with you? Are you just going to have a stroke or something?"
But Tuppence remained motionless. Presently she said in a far away voice.
"Denis Riordan."
"Eh?" said Tommy staring.
"It's just as you said. One simple innocent remark! Find me all this week's Daily Leaders."
"What are you up to?"
"I'm being McCarty. I've been worrying round, and thanks to you, I've got a notion at last. This is the front sheet of Tuesday's paper. I seem to remember that Tuesday's paper was the one with two dots in the L of LEADER. This has a dot in the D of DAILY-and one in the L too. Get me the papers and let's make sure."
They compared them anxiously. Tuppence had been quite right in her remembrance.
"You see? This fragment wasn't torn from Tuesday's paper."
"But Tuppence, we can't be sure. It may merely be different editions."
"It may-but at any rate it's given me an idea. It can't be coincidencethat's certain. There's only one thing it can be if I'm right in my idea.
Ring up Sir Arthur, Tommy. Ask him to come round here at once. Say I've got important news for him. Then get hold of Marriot. Scotland Yard will know his address if he's gone home."
Sir Arthur Merivale, very much intrigued by the summons, arrived at the flat in about half an hour's time. Tuppence came forward to greet hire. "I must apologise for sending for you in such a peremptory fashion," she said. "But my husband and I have discovered something that we think you ought to know at once. Do sit down."
Sir Arthur sat down, and Tuppence went on.
"You are, I know, very anxious to clear your friend."
Sir Arthur shook his head sadly.
"I was, but even I have had to give in to the overwhelming evidence."
"What would you say if I told you that chance has placed in my hands a piece of evidence that will certainly clear him of all complicity?"
"I should be overjoyed to hear it, Mrs. Beresford."
"Supposing," continued Tuppence, "that I had come across a girl who was actually dancing with Captain Hale last night at twelve o'clock-the hour when he was supposed to be at the Ace of Spades."
"Marvellous," cried Sir Arthur. "I knew there was some mistake. Poor Vere must have killed herself after all."
"Hardly that," said Tuppence. "You forget the other man."
"What other man?"
"The one my husband and I saw leave the booth. You see, Sir Arthur, there must have been a second man dressed in newspaper at the Ball.
By the way, what was your own costume?"
"Mine? I went as a seventeenth century executioner."
"How very appropriate," said Tuppence softly.
"Appropriate, Mrs. Beresford? What do you mean by appropriate?"
"For the part you played. Shall I tell you my ideas on the subject, Sir Arthur? The newspaper dress is easily put on over that of an executioner. Previously a little note has been slipped into Captain Hale's hand, asking him not to speak to a certain lady. But the lady herself knows nothing of that note. She goes to the Ace of Spades at the appointed time, and sees the figure she expects to see. They go into the booth. He takes her in his arms, I think, and kisses her-the kiss of a Judas, and as he kisses he strikes with the dagger. She only utters one faint cry and he covers that with a laugh. Presently he goes awayand to the last, horrified and bewildered, she believes her lover is the man who killed her.
"But she has torn a small fragment from the costume. The murderer notices that-he is a man who pays great attention to detail. To make the case absolutely clear against his victim the fragment must seem to have been torn from Captain Hale's costume. That would present great difficulties unless tale two men happened to be living in the same house. Then, of course, the thing would be simplicity itself. He makes an exact duplicate of the tear in Captain Hale's costume-then he burns his own and prepares to play the part of the loyal friend."
Tuppence paused.
"Well, Sir Arthur?"
Sir Arthur rose and made her a bow. "The rather vivid imagination of a charming lady who reads too much fiction."
"You think so?" said Tommy.
"And a husband who is guided by his wife," said Sir Arthur. "I do not fancy you will find anybody to take the matter seriously."
He laughed out loud, and Tuppence stiffened in her chair.
"I would swear to that laugh anywhere," she said. "I heard it last in the Ace of Spades. And you are under a little misapprehension about us both. Beresford is our real name, but we have another."
She picked up a card from the table and handed it to him. Sir Arthur read it aloud.
"International Detective Agency . . ." He drew his breath sharply. "So that is what you really are! That was why Marriot brought me here this morning. It was a trap-"
He strolled to the window.
"A fine view you have from here," he said. "Right over London."
"Inspector Marriot," cried Tommy sharply.
In a flash the Inspector appeared from the communicating door in the opposite wall.