‘Supposing, after all, she’s escaped?’ she murmured in a whisper.
‘Plumb impossible,’ replied Julius reassuringly.
But Sir James said nothing.
Tuppence drew a long breath and entered. She heaved a sigh of relief as she saw that Mrs Vandemeyer was lying on the bed.
‘Good morning,’ she remarked cheerfully. ‘I’ve brought you some tea.’
Mrs Vandemeyer did not reply. Tuppence put down the cup on the table by the bed and went across to draw up the blinds. When she turned, Mrs Vandemeyer still lay without a movement. With a sudden fear clutching at her heart, Tuppence ran to the bed. The hand she lifted was cold as ice … Mrs Vandemeyer would never speak now …
Her cry brought the others. A very few minutes sufficed. Mrs Vandemeyer was dead – must have been dead some hours. She had evidently died in her sleep.
‘If that isn’t the cruellest luck,’ cried Julius in despair.
The lawyer was calmer, but there was a curious gleam in his eyes.
‘If it is luck,’ he replied.
‘You don’t think – but, say, that’s plumb impossible – no one could have got in.’
‘No,’ admitted the lawyer. ‘I don’t see how they could. And yet – she is on the point of betraying Mr Brown, and – she dies. Is it only chance?’
‘But how –’
‘Yes, how! That is what we must find out.’ He stood there silently, gently stroking his chin. ‘We must find out,’ he said quietly, and Tuppence felt that if she was Mr Brown she would not like the tone of those simple words.
Julius’s glance went to the window.
‘The window’s open,’ he remarked. ‘Do you think –’
Tuppence shook her head.
‘The balcony only goes along as far as the boudoir. We were there.’
‘He might have slipped out –’ suggested Julius.
But Sir James interrupted him.
‘Mr Brown’s methods are not so crude. In the meantime we must send for a doctor, but before we do so is there anything in this room that might be of value to us?’
Hastily, the three searched. A charred mass in the grate indicated that Mrs Vandemeyer had been burning papers on the eve of her flight. Nothing of importance remained, though they searched the other rooms as well.
‘There’s that,’ said Tuppence suddenly, pointing to a small, old-fashioned safe let into the wall. ‘It’s for jewellery, I believe, but there might be something else in it.’
The key was in the lock, and Julius swung open the door, and searched inside. He was some time over the task.
‘Well,’ said Tuppence impatiently.
There was a pause before Julius answered, then he withdrew his head and shut the door.
‘Nothing,’ he said.
In five minutes a brisk young doctor arrived, hastily summoned. He was deferential to Sir James, whom he recognized.
‘Heart failure, or possibly an overdose of some sleeping-draught. He sniffed. ‘Rather an odour of chloral in the air.’
Tuppence remembered the glass she had upset. A new thought drove her to the wash-stand. She found the little bottle from which Mrs Vandemeyer had poured a few drops.
It had been three parts full. Now – it was empty.
Nothing was more surprising and bewildering to Tuppence than the ease and simplicity with which everything was arranged, owing to Sir James’s skilful handling. The doctor accepted quite readily the theory that Mrs Vandemeyer had accidentally taken an overdose of chloral. He doubted whether an inquest would be necessary. If so, he would let Sir James know. He understood that Mrs Vandemeyer was on the eve of departure for abroad, and that the servants had already left? Sir James and his young friends had been paying a call upon her, when she was suddenly stricken down and they had spent the night in the flat, not liking to leave her alone. Did they know of any relatives? They did not, but Sir James referred him to Mrs Vandemeyer’s solicitor.
Shortly afterwards a nurse arrived to take charge, and the others left the ill-omened building.
‘And what now?’ asked Julius, with a gesture of despair. ‘I guess we’re down and out for good.’
Sir James stroked his chin thoughtfully.
‘No,’ he said quietly. ‘There is still the chance that Dr Hall may be able to tell us something.’
‘Gee! I’d forgotten him.’
‘The chance is slight, but it must not be neglected. I think I told you that he is staying at the Metropole. I should suggest that we call upon him there as soon as possible. Shall we say after a bath and breakfast?’
It was arranged that Tuppence and Julius should return to the Ritz, and call for Sir James in the car. The programme was faithfully carried out, and a little after eleven they drew up before the Metropole. They asked for Dr Hall, and a page-boy went in search of him. In a few minutes the little doctor came hurrying towards them.
‘Can you spare us a few minutes, Dr Hall?’ said Sir James pleasantly. ‘Let me introduce you to Miss Cowley. Mr Hersheimmer, I think, you already know.’
A quizzical gleam came into the doctor’s eye as he shook hands with Julius.
‘Ah, yes, my young friend of the tree episode! Ankle all right, eh?’
‘I guess it’s cured owing to your skilful treatment, doc.’
‘And the heart trouble? Ha! ha!’
‘Still searching,’ said Julius briefly.
‘To come to the point, can we have a word with you in private?’ asked Sir James.
‘Certainly. I think there is a room here where we shall be quite undisturbed.’
He led the way, and the others followed him. They sat down, and the doctor looked inquiringly at Sir James.
‘Dr Hall, I am very anxious to find a certain young lady for the purpose of obtaining a statement from her. I have reason to believe that she has been at one time or another in your establishment at Bournemouth. I hope I am transgressing no professional etiquette in questioning you on the subject?’
‘I
