The passionate interest with which her hearers had received this recital must have gratified Mrs. Cropper’s sense of the dramatic. Mr. Murbles was very slowly rotating his hands over one another with a dry, rustling sound- like an old snake, gliding through the long grass in search of prey.

“A little scene after your own heart, Murbles,” said Lord Peter, with a glint under his dropped eyelids. He turned again to Mrs. Cropper.

“This is the first time you’ve told this story?”

“Yes-and I wouldn’t have said anything if it hadn’t been-”

“I know. Now, if you’ll take my advice, Mrs. Cropper, you won’t tell it again. Stories like that have a nasty way of bein’ dangerous. Will you consider it an impertinence if I ask you what your plans are for the next week or two?”

“I’m going to see Mother and get her to come back to Canada with me. I wanted her to come when I got married, but she didn’t like going so far away from Bertha. She was always Mother’s favourite- taking so much after Father, you see. Mother and me was always too much alike to get on. But now she’s got nobody else and it isn’t right for her to be all alone, so I think she’ll come with me. It’s a long journey for an ailing old woman, but I reckon blood’s thicker than water. My husband said, ‘Bring her back first-class, my girl, and I’ll find the money.’ He’s a good sort, is my husband.”

“You couldn’t do better,” said Wimsey, “and if you’ll allow me, I’ll send a friend to look after you both on the train journey and see you safe on to the boat. And don’t stop long in England. Excuse me buttin’ in on your affairs like this, but honestly I think you’d be safer elsewhere.”

“You don’t think that Bertha-?”

Her eyes widened with alarm.

“I don’t like to say quite what I think, because I don’t know. But I’ll see you and your mother are safe, whatever happens.”

“And Bertha? Can I do anything about that?”

“Well, you’ll have to come and see my friends at Scotland Yard, I think, and tell them what you’ve told me. They’ll be interested.”

“And will something be done about it?”

“I’m sure, if we can prove there’s been any foul play, the police won’t rest till it’s been tracked down to the right person. But the difficulty is, you see, to prove that the death wasn’t natural.”

“I observe in to-day’s paper,” said Mr. Murbles, “that the local superintendent is now satisfied that Miss Gotobed came down alone for a quiet picnic and died of a heart attack.”

“That man would say anything,” said Wimsey. “We know from the postmortem that she had recently had a heavy meal- forgive these distressin’ details, Mrs. Cropper- so why the picnic?”

“I suppose they had the sandwiches and the beer-bottle in mind,” said Murbles, mildly.

“I see. I suppose she went down to Epping alone with a bottle of Bass and took out the cork with her fingers. Ever tried doing it, Murbles? No? Well, when they find the corkscrew I’ll believe she went there alone. In the meantime, I hope the papers will publish a few more theories like that. Nothin’ like inspiring criminals with confidence, Murbles- it goes to their heads, you know.”

Lord Peter took Mrs. Cropper down to Christchurch and returned to town to have a conference with Mr. Parker. The latter had just listened to his recital of Mrs. Cropper’s story, when the discreet opening and closing of the flat door announced the return of Bunter.

“Any luck?” inquired Wimsey.

“I regret exceedingly to have to inform your lordship that I lost track of the lady. In fact, if your lordship will kindly excuse the expression, I was completely done in the eye.”

“Thank God, Bunter, you’re human after all. I didn’t know anybody could do you. Have a drink.”

“I am much obliged to your lordship. According to instructions, I searched the platform for a lady in a crimson hat and a grey fur, and at length was fortunate enough to observe her making her way by the station entrance towards the big bookstall. She was some way ahead of me, but the hat was very conspicuous, and, in the words of the poet, if I may so express myself, I followed the gleam.”

“Stout fellow.”

“Thank you, my lord. The lady walked into the Station Hotel, which, as you know has two entrances, one upon the platform and the other upon the street. I hurried after her for fear she should give me the slip, and made my way through the revolving doors just in time to see her back disappearing into the Ladies Retiring Room.”

“Whither, as a modest man, you could not follow her. I quite understand.”

“Quite so, my lord. I took a seat in the entrance hall, in a position from which I could watch the door without appearing to do so.”

“And discovered too late that the place had two exits, I suppose. Unusual and distressin’.”

“No, my lord. That was not the trouble. I sat watching for three quarters of an hour, but the crimson hat did not reappear. Your lordship will bear in mind that I had never seen the lady’s face.”

Lord Peter groaned.

“I forsee the end of this story, Bunter. Not your fault. Proceed.”

“At the end of this time, my lord, I felt bound to conclude either that the lady had been taken ill or that something untoward had occurred. I summoned a female attendant who happened to cross the hall and informed her that I had been entrusted with a message for a lady whose dress I described. I begged her to ascertain from the attendant in the Ladies’ Room whether the lady in question was still there. The girl went away and presently returned to say that the lady had changed her costume in the cloakroom and had gone out half an hour previously.”

“Oh, Bunter, Bunter. Didn’t you spot the suitcase or whatever it was when she came out again?”

“Excuse me, my lord. The lady had come in earlier in the day and had left an attaché-case in charge of the attendant. On returning, she had transferred her hat and fur to the attaché-case and put on a small black felt hat and a light-weight raincoat which she had packed there in readiness. So that her dress was concealed when she emerged and she was carrying the attaché-case, whereas, when I first saw her, she had been empty-handed.”

“Everything foreseen. What a woman!”

“I made immediate inquiries, my lord, in the region of the hotel and the station, but without result. The black hat and raincoat were entirely inconspicuous, and no one remembered having seen her. I went to the Central Station to discover if she had travelled by any train. Several women answering to the description had taken tickets for various destinations, but I could get no definite information. I also visited all the garages in Liverpool, with the same lack of success. I am greatly distressed to have failed your lordship.”

“Can’t be helped. You did everything you could do. Cheer up. Never say die. And you must be tired to death. Take the day off and go to bed.”

“I thank your lordship, but I slept excellently in the train on the way up.”

“Just as you like, Bunter. But I did hope you sometimes got tired like other people.”

Bunter smiled discreetly and withdrew.

“Well, we’ve gained this much, anyhow,” said Parker. “We know now that this Miss Whittaker has something to conceal, since she takes such precautions to avoid being followed.”

“We know more than that. We know that she was desperately anxious to get hold of the Cropper woman before anyone else could see her, no doubt to stop her mouth by bribery or by worse means. By the way, how did she know she was coming by that boat?”

“Mrs. Cropper sent a cable, which was read at the inquest.”

“Damn these inquests. They give away all the information one wants kept quiet, and produce no evidence worth having.”