Anthony smiled whimsically. “Two ladies—two suit-cases, Inspector. I don’t know that I’m overwhelmingly surprised to run up against this second one. If Miss Delaney intended to stay in Seabourne for any length of time as the people at the ‘Lauderdale’ testify—and as the postcard from Otterton indicates also—she would almost certainly carry something in the nature of a suit-case. No,” he shook his head as though attempting to measure the situation thoroughly, “I’m not surprised, Inspector.”
“I grant you all that,” replied Bannister, “but I don’t know that I expected to meet it in a motor-car to Tranfield. It’s locked,” he added—trying the two catches.
“You’ll find the key on the bed in all probability, Inspector,” cut in Anthony jerking his head in the direction of the room that they had just left. “The murderer—if it were a man—took all Miss Delaney’s keys and brought them back with him from Seabourne. Nothing of hers was found in Branston’s surgery remember.”
Bannister grunted thoughtfully. Anthony picked up the suit-case. “Was this case actually right underneath the seat, Inspector?” he asked.
“It was, Mr. Bathurst—why?”
“Does it suggest anything to you, Inspector?”
“Only too true! This car was pretty full up on the return journey.”
Anthony regarded him curiously. “Funny thing—that didn’t occur to me. It’s strange how people see different explanations. Two heads are better than one—you can’t get away from the truth of that. No—what I was thinking was that the suit-case had been pushed under the seat to hide it.”
Bannister turned slowly—his eyes narrowing. “By Jove—now that possibility certainly might mean—” he strode to the doors of the garage rapidly and decisively. Anthony’s idea seemed to have given him a new and definite impetus.
“Ross,” he called, peremptorily. The local Sergeant came up quickly. “Ross,” went on Bannister, “get a telegram despatched at once to ‘4, Rolle Cottages, Otterton,’” he referred to the postcard they had found on the mat, and then turned to Anthony. “I think Miss Carruthers said the nurse’s name was ‘Carr,” didn’t she?”
“Quite right, Inspector.”
“I’ll write the name and address down for you, Ross.” He suited the action to the words and handed the Sergeant a slip of paper. Ross placed it carefully within the leaves of an expansive pocket-book. “Right you are, sir,” he said, saluting, “I’ll attend to it at once.”
“I want you to,” confirmed Bannister, “and when you’ve sent it off—you see what I’ve said—come back here.”
Ross swung down the garden path and they heard the gate shut behind him.
“I’ve sent for the old companion, Mr. Bathurst—this ‘Pinkie’ person—if she’s lived with Miss Delaney for as long as we’ve been informed she probably knows more about her than anybody else.”
Anthony nodded in agreement. Suddenly he walked to the front of the car and looked intently at the pigeon-hole in the dash-board. “The car has no mileage indicator,” he pointed out. Then he thrust in his hand and drew out a newspaper, folded carefully. He opened it—then smiled and handed it to his companion. “Let me call your attention, Inspector, to the name and the date.”
Bannister turned eagerly to the title-page. “The ‘Seabourne Herald,” Thursday, July 5th. Well, I’m jiggered.”
“I told you I would convince you that this car was the car that was seen in Seabourne,” declared Anthony. “Copies of that stupendous publication that is inflicted upon a long-suffering public under the title of ‘Seabourne Herald’ are not likely to have been on sale in Tranfield or Westhampton for instance. I don’t think the ‘Seabourne Herald’ circulates as far as that.”
Bannister polished his glasses very thoughtfully and carefully. “You’re right, Mr. Bathurst,” he said after a moment or two spent in this thought-stimulating occupation. “I believe the ‘Seabourne Herald’ is on sale in Seabourne on Thursday mornings—but I’ll tell you frankly—I’m damned if I know what to make of it. Why was the car brought back to Tranfield and then left here? Speed would surely be equally important after the search had been made here? What were they after? Again—did they succeed in finding it—whatever it was?” He looked at Anthony.
Mr. Bathurst shrugged his shoulders. “Also, Inspector,” he contributed, “there’s another point that I’m considering. Who is ‘X’?” He knitted his brows in thought. “Tell me again,” he said, “what was the exact wording of that postcard we found in the bedroom?”
The inspector fished the card from his pocket and handed it to Mr. Bathurst. Anthony read it for the second time. “Why did Miss Delaney keep a seemingly unimportant card like that? I can only think of one reason. What do you think, Inspector?”
Bannister’s reply was in the nature of a half-grimace. “There’s no accounting for what women will do… with one it’s a whim… with another it’s just temperamental… with a third, the caprice of a moment—you can’t generalise. On the other hand this particular card may have escaped destruction by a pure accident.”
“That’s all true—to a point,” intervened Anthony, “but many things are kept for years by a woman—entirely valueless in themselves—just because they have certain definite associations. Flowers—a theatre-programme, a dance-programme—a letter—a postcard—because they have sentimental values. They may be relics of long-ago romances. And articles of the nature that I’ve just indicated are usually kept in a very private place—such as a special drawer in the bedroom.”
Bannister opened the newspaper again. “I suppose there’s nothing marked anywhere in the paper, is there?” he scanned the columns—without success. “No,” he remarked after a few moments, “I couldn’t imagine the ‘Seabourne Herald’ publishing anything deemed worthy of marking.”
“Let’s look at the card again, Inspector, will you?”
Bannister handed it to him again and watched him over the top of the newspaper. “The slope of his hand-writing is most unusual and yet…”
“And yet what, Mr. Bathurst?”
“I can’t help a strong feeling that I’ve seen something like it before.”
“You have—where?”
Anthony shook his head doubtfully. “Can’t place it for the moment—but there’s a decorative flourish about it that at times seems to strike
