‘We must see it,’ repeated Tom.
There was a pause. A lot hinged on Sebastian Marmont’s reply. He could not still be in possession of the Dagger which was currently locked up in a police safe. But what he said next would determine how much he knew of the weapon which was responsible for a murder, possibly even whether he had committed it himself.
The Major sighed. He seemed to come to a decision.
‘I cannot show the Lucknow Dagger to you, dear lady and gentleman, for the simple reason that I no longer have it. It was stolen from me on the evening of the performance. As I said, Eustace Flask came storming after me into the dressing room. I turned my back on him for a moment — I wasn’t afraid of him and his tantrums! — and when I looked round again his expression had changed. He had obviously thought better of starting a set-to. He stalked out. It was only later that I realized that the Dagger had gone. I had taken it off and laid it down as I was changing. He must have removed it as a form of revenge. Like the sneaking opportunistic thief he was.’
‘Why didn’t you go after him?’
‘I decided to leave it until the next day. I knew where he lived, Flask and the man and woman who share a house with him.’
‘Yes, you must have known,’ said Tom, ‘because you wrote a letter to him inviting him to take part in the performance. How did you know that, Major Marmont?’
‘You are very suspicious, Mr Ansell. You ought to be a detective.’
‘I — both Helen and I — have cause for suspicion, sir. Believe me, the police might have cause for suspicion too.’
‘I sense there is something you’re not telling me. Very well, yes, I did know Flask’s address in the city. I told one of my lads to follow him and his little entourage after that business at Miss Howlett’s. It was easy to do. Flask and the woman were sauntering through the old town with that bruiser of a fellow pushing a handcart containing all Flask’s tawdry props behind them. They finished up at a house in Old Elvet. My lad noted the street and the number, then came back and gave me the information after which I wrote to the medium requesting his presence at the Assembly Rooms. He duly came as a member of the audience and the rest followed.’
‘Did you go to get the Dagger back?’
‘I went the next morning, only to be told by the woman — Kitty’s her name, I think — that Flask had returned to the house very late the previous night, in fact in the early hours of the morning. But by that stage he’d vanished once more, she said, gone to meet someone. She did not say who he was meeting.’
‘You asked her about the Dagger?’
‘I did not mention it. The matter of the Dagger was between Flask and me. If I encountered him again I was going to call him a thief to his face and demand its return.’
‘If you encountered him. You don’t sound very concerned about the loss of the Dagger.’
‘The Dagger has a strange and violent history which I have only hinted at in the notes I have given you. If I’m honest I had mixed feelings about its loss. I suspected that it would bring no good to Eustace Flask.’
‘It did not,’ said Helen. ‘The Dagger was the implement which was used to kill him.’
‘Was it now?’ said the Major with surprising equanimity, though his face grew more ruddy. ‘Well, that is an example of poetic justice, since Flask took the Dagger from me.’
‘You did not tell any of this to Superintendent Harcourt?’ said Tom.
‘As I say, the taking of the Dagger was a matter between me and Flask so, no, I did not mention it. Besides, Superintendent Harcourt did not seem very interested by what I said. He was easily satisfied. I gathered from something he let slip that he was familiar with this man Flask and didn’t much like him either. Without giving a demonstration, I merely informed Harcourt of how I first caused Flask to disappear from the Perseus Cabinet and then let him out again five minutes or so later. So where is the Lucknow Dagger now, Mr Ansell? I ask, because you seem to be so well informed.’
‘It’s in the hands of the police,’ said Tom.
Helen told of the strange parcel which had been forwarded to the Crown Court and the yet stranger note which had exonerated her of blame for the murder. She could even recite it word for word — ‘THE LADY DID’NT DO THE DEED’ and so on — as though it were imprinted on her brain. It was imprinted on Tom’s too. Now Marmont looked truly shocked.
‘You don’t mean that you have come under suspicion yourself, Helen? That is terrible, terrible. Thank God for the anonymous letter-writer.’
‘Whoever he was,’ she said.
‘Major, you will have to go to the police and give a statement about how Flask took the knife and so on. Now that you know it was the murder weapon.’
‘Is that the advice of a lawyer, Mr Ansell?’
‘It is.’
‘Very well. But before that I should like you — both of you — to hear the full story of the Dagger’s provenance. The notes I have given you, Mr Ansell, only hint at it. A day or so’s delay in informing the Durham Constabulary cannot make much difference.’
Tom agreed since he had little choice. Dilip Gopal, Marmont’s assistant, appeared at this point. The Major introduced him to Helen and he bowed slightly.
‘Mr and Mrs Ansell are curious about the disappearance of Eustace Flask. I have told them that no harm came to him here.’
‘That is the case,’ said the Indian. ‘I saw him go. But not before he had roundly insulted me as he left the theatre. It is fortunate that I am a forgiving fellow.’
He uttered the remark in a light spirit but his mouth was grim.
‘Oh I don’t think anyone would suspect you, my dear fellow,’ said Marmont. ‘But I have some bad news, Dilip. The implement which was used to murder Flask was the Lucknow Dagger. It is at present in the hands of the police.’
‘I hope that they will return it, Major,’ said Dilip Gopal.
‘No doubt, but they must retain it as evidence for a time.’
An odd look passed between Marmont and Dilip Gopal. Tom could not interpret it. A warning? A sign of collusion? He felt more than ever out of his depth.
The Police-House
Miss Kitty Partout was visiting Superintendent Frank Harcourt at the station-house. She said that she had come to clear her name because of whisperings and rumours over the murder of Eustace Flask. He was the one to speak to, wasn’t he?
‘That’s right, Miss Partout,’ said Harcourt. ‘I am in charge of the investigation.’
Harcourt was the natural choice to take charge of the inquiry into Flask’s murder. He had practically volunteered himself. Hadn’t he been ordered by Chief Constable Huggins to deal with Flask when the medium was alive? Therefore he was the one to handle him when dead.
Normally Frank Harcourt would have enjoyed sitting in his cramped little office in the company of an attractive woman like Kitty. She was slight and dark-haired with a plump figure and quite a forward manner. But he was uneasily aware that Kitty was probably familiar with his own links to Eustace. Although his own early dealings with Flask — when he attempted to make contact with Florry — had been while the medium was operating alone in Durham, Harcourt knew of Kitty and Barker. Therefore she might know of him. Had the medium boasted of having one of the town officers under his thumb?
He wondered if he could discover how much she knew. Before he could utter a word, however, she began to tumble out her own story. He shushed her and said they would do things in the proper, orderly style. He started with a benign query.
‘I am sorry to see you have hurt your hand, Miss Partout. I hope it is not your good hand.’
‘It’s nothing,’ said Kitty, tucking the bandaged hand in her lap without answering the question directly. ‘I cut it on some glass is all. But thank you for asking. My name is pronounced “Partoo”, by the way.’
Harcourt fussed over his pad and pencil as he usually did so that he could make a covert assessment of those
