“I don’t know. Probably.”
“Well, you ought to,” Roger said severely. “You’re engaged, aren’t you?”
“No,” Alec replied mournfully. After all, Roger would have to know some time that the engagement had been broken off.
Roger stared at him in amazement. “No? But you got engaged to Barbara yesterday, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” said Alec, still more mournfully. “But we broke it off today. Or postponed it, rather, It may be on again in a month or so, I hope.”
“But why, in the name of goodness?”
“Oh, for—for certain reasons,” Alec said lamely. “We decided it was the best thing to do. Er—private reasons, you know.”
“Good Lord, I’m awfully sorry to hear it, old man,” said Roger genuinely. “I hope things will come all right for you in the end; and if there’s anything in the world that I can do, you know you’ve only got to say the word. There isn’t a couple anywhere that I’d sooner see fixed up than you and Barbara. You’re quite the nicest two people I know.” Roger was in the habit of disregarding the convention that a man should never under any circumstances display emotion in the presence of another man, just as heartily as he violated all other conventions.
Alec flushed with pleasure. “Thanks awfully, old chap,” he said gruffly. “I knew I could rely on you. But really, there isn’t anything you could possibly do. And things will come out all right, I feel sure.”
“Well, I sincerely hope so, or I’ll wring young Barbara’s neck for her,” said Roger; and both men knew that the topic was closed, until or unless Alec himself chose to reopen it.
“And about this powder?” Alec prompted.
“Ah, yes. I hadn’t finished with the settee, had I? Well, let’s see if there’s anything more to be found first.”
He bent over the couch again, only to look up the next instant.
“See this?” he said, indicating a long fair hair in the angle between the arm and the back. “There has been a woman sitting here recently. This confirms the face powder. What an extraordinarily lucky thing that we thought of searching the place for that cartridge case. It would never have done to have missed this. I have an idea that this woman is going to be more useful to us than fifty cartridge cases.” And taking a letter out of his pocket he drew out the sheet of paper and carefully placed the hair in the envelope. “They always do this in books,” he explained, observing Alec’s interested gaze, “so I suppose it’s the right thing to do.”
“And what are you going to do next?” Alec asked, as the envelope followed the handkerchief into Roger’s breast pocket. “You’ve only got about half an hour before dinner time, you know.”
“Yes. I’m going to try and find out if I can when this settee was last tidied up; that seems to me the point on which everything depends. After that I’ve got to spot the owner of the handkerchief.”
“By the scent? There are no initials on it.”
“By the scent. This is the sort of occasion when being a dog must come in so useful,” Roger added reflectively.
XIX
Mr. Sheringham Loses and Wins the Same Bet
At the top of the stairs the two parted, Alec going to his own room and Roger to his. Arrived there, the latter did not proceed immediately with his changing; for some moments he leaned, deep in thought, on the windowsill overlooking the garden. Then, as if he had come to a decision, he crossed the room briskly and rang the bell.
A cheerful, plump young person answered it and smiled questioningly. Roger was always a favourite with servants; if not always with gardeners.
“Oh, hullo, Alice. I say, I seem to have lost my fountain pen. You haven’t seen it about anywhere, have you?”
The girl shook her head. “No, sir, that I haven’t. It wasn’t in here when I did the room this morning, I’m sure.”
“H’m! That’s a nuisance. I’ve missed it since last night. The last time I remember having it was in the library a short time before dinner. I wonder if I can have left it in there. Do you do the library?”
“Oh, no, sir. I only do the bedrooms. Mary does the downstairs rooms.”
“I see. Well, do you think I could have a word with Mary, if she’s not too busy? Perhaps you could send her up here?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll tell her at once.”
“Thank you, Alice.”
In due course Mary made her appearance.
“I say, Mary,” Roger remarked confidentially, “I’ve lost my fountain pen, and Alice tells me that she hasn’t come across it in here. Now the last time I had it was in the library yesterday, some time between tea and dinner; I’ve been looking round for it in there, but I can’t see it. I suppose you haven’t tidied up the library since then, or seen anything of it?”
“Yes, sir, I tidied up the library last night while they were in at dinner. And little did I think when I was doing it that—”
“Yes, quite so,” Roger put in soothingly. “Shocking business! But what did the tidying up consist of, Mary? I mean, if it was only cursory you might not have noticed the pen. What did you do exactly?”
“Well, sir, I put the chairs straight and tidied up the cigarette ends in the hearth and emptied the ashtrays.”
“What about the settee? I remember sitting on the settee with the pen in my hand.”
“It wasn’t there then, sir,” Mary said with decision. “I took up all the cushions and shook them, and there wasn’t anything there. I should have noticed it if there had been.”
“I see. You did the settee quite thoroughly, in fact? Brushed it, and
