‘What about the way the letters were written?’
‘Oh yes, I was just coming to that, sir. Really, it’s the most interesting part. Highly original. And clever. Do you know what she used, sir?’
‘I wouldn’t bloody well be asking if I did!’ snarled Dover. Two thick-necked policemen at the next table exchanged knowing winks and grinned at each other. ‘Glad I don’t work for that old baa-lamb!’ muttered one of them.
MacGregor hastily resumed his narrative in an attempt to avert a punch-up as an ugly red flush spread over Dover’s features.
‘The letters were printed with one of those children’s printing sets, sir. You know, the ones they sell in little cardboard boxes.’
Dover’s face remained blank.
‘Like this, sir.’ MacGregor fished around in his brief-case and produced a small cardboard box. ‘You can get them in different sizes but we think this is the one she used. You see, sir,’ – MacGregor took the lid off – ‘you get all these little rubber letters and you insert them in the order you want in this little wooden holder.’ With some difficulty MacGregor composed his surname. ‘You’ll see, sir,’ he said, fumbling enthusiastically away, ‘it’s a fiddly sort of job and I doubt if you could do it with a pair of rubber gloves on. With a bit of luck – oh, thank you very much, constable! There’s another one under that chair, if you wouldn’t mind – she may get careless and give us the present of a nice fat fingerprint. There you are, sir! I’ve got it set up now. All you have to do now is get this little inking pad, press the line of type on it – so – and then’ – MacGregor hunted in his brief-case for a sheet of paper – ‘you stamp it – so!’
Solemnly the two men stared at the result. There was MacGregor’s name, smudgy but quite legible, in purple ink on the paper.
‘Hm,’ said Dover with interest. ‘Here, do one with my name now’.
‘The only trouble is, sir,’ said MacGregor, fastidiously dismantling his own name and setting up the Chief Inspector’s, ‘that it’s very slow, as you can see. But it serves its purpose. There’s no question of us being able to identify the author by any handwriting tests. In the bigger boxes you get more of the rubber letters and a bigger stick thing to hold them in but, judging by the way our poison-pen letters have been done, this is probably the box she used.’
‘Where do you buy them?’ asked Dover, happily stamping his name in purple ink all over the paper.
‘Practically any toy shop, sir. This model only costs a few bob. I’m having the local boys check around. It’s a better lead than the writing paper at any rate. If our Madam X bought one of these in the last few days, I think we’ve a good chance that the shopkeeper might remember.’
‘She’s been pretty far-seeing so far. She might have bought it months ago, maybe in London or somewhere like that.’
‘Well, in that case, sir, we haven’t a hope of tracing it. Still,’ said MacGregor, who was a great one for looking on the bright side, ‘we’ve got a few advantages in our favour this time.’
‘Such as?’ said Dover.
‘Well, sir, it looks pretty obvious that this second batch of letters is a sort of challenge, don’t you think? You said in The Jolly Sailor on Tuesday night that she was more or less too scared to write any more letters.’
‘So?’ said Dover cautiously.
‘So here she is proving you wrong! It’s an act of defiance, sir, don’t you think? But, and here’s the point, she didn’t expect that she would have to send this second lot, otherwise she would have done them on the typewriter. Obviously this kids’ printing-set method is a matter of improvisation. If you’re right, sir – and clearly you are – the first lot of letters were written well in advance, and the typewriter was disposed of long before any letters were sent. Obviously she couldn’t use it again. Hence the printing-set, but it’s very slow and clearly second-best. The point is, sir, she must actually be writing these letters now. Don’t you agree? She must have this lot of writing paper and her printing-set in her possession now.’
‘As a matter of fact,’ said Dover, idly trying to lick some purple ink off the tips of his fingers, ‘that’s why I said what I did in The Jolly Sailor. I was just trying to goad her into action. Seems as though I’ve succeeded.’
Several months and a few unsolved cases earlier MacGregor’s jaw would have dropped, and other signs of frank incredulity would have passed over his handsomely chiselled features, but not now. Now he was too accustomed to the Chief Inspector’s awe-inspiringly accurate rear vision, and just ignored it.
‘If we could organize another house-to-house search in Thornwich, sir, we might catch her purple-handed.’ MacGregor laughed at his little joke.
Dover didn’t. He looked at the little cardboard box as it lay on the table. ‘Not very difficult to hide,’ he commented, always happy to pour cold water on other people’s ideas. ‘As soon as she got wind of the search she could chuck it on the fire. And, knowing Thornwich, she’d probably know about it before we did.’
‘The rubber would smell,’ said MacGregor hopefully.
‘Pshaw,’ said Dover.
And that, for some considerable time, was that. For the next few days, as the obscene letters continued to arrive in Thornwich’s letter boxes, the local police, goaded by MacGregor, pursued their investigations. They didn’t succeed in tracing the purchase of the blue Tendy Bond writing paper or of the child’s printing-set. Inquiries were made to see if any one had bought suspiciously large supplies
