“A cheese cake and a milk,” said the waitress with even deeper scorn if that were possible. Still thinking of something else, she drifted away again.
“That was uncalled for,” said Tommy coldly.
“But I’m right, aren’t I? You are the Old Man in the Corner? Where’s your piece of string?”
Tommy drew a long twisted mesh of string from his pocket, and proceeded to tie a couple of knots in it.
“Complete to the smallest detail,” he murmured.
“You made a small mistake in ordering your meal, though.”
“Women are so literal minded,” said Tommy. “If there’s one thing I hate it’s milk to drink, and cheese cakes are always so yellow and bilious looking.”
“Be an artist,” said Tuppence. “Watch me attack my cold tongue. Jolly good stuff, cold tongue. Now then, I’m all ready to be Miss Polly Burton. Tie a large knot and begin.”
“First of all,” said Tommy, “speaking in a strictly unofficial capacity, let me point out this. Business is not too brisk lately. If business does not come to us, we must go to business. Apply our minds to one of the great public mysteries of the moment. Which brings me to the point—the Sunningdale Mystery.”
“Ah!” said Tuppence, with deep interest. “The Sunningdale Mystery!”
Tommy drew a crumpled piece of newspaper from his pocket and laid it on the table.
“That is the latest portrait of Captain Sessle as it appeared in the Daily Leader.”
“Just so,” said Tuppence. “I wonder someone doesn’t sue these newspapers sometimes. You can see it’s a man and that’s all.”
“When I said the Sunningdale Mystery, I should have said the so-called Sunningdale Mystery,” went on Tommy rapidly. “A mystery to the police perhaps, but not to an intelligent mind.”
“Tie another knot,” said Tuppence.
“I don’t know how much of the case you remember,” continued Tommy quietly.
“All of it,” said Tuppence, “but don’t let me cramp your style.”
“It was just over three weeks ago,” said Tommy, “that that gruesome discovery was made on the famous golf links. Two members of the Club who were enjoying an early round were horrified to find the body of a man lying face downwards on the seventh tee. Even before they turned him over they had guessed him to be Captain Sessle, a well known figure on the links, and who always wore a golf coat of a peculiarly bright blue color.
“Captain Sessle was often seen out on the links early in the morning, practising, and it was thought at first that he had been suddenly overcome by some form of heart disease. But examination by a doctor revealed the sinister fact that he had been murdered, stabbed to the heart with a significant object, a woman’s hat pin. He was also found to have been dead at least twelve hours.
“That put an entirely different complexion on the matter, and very soon some interesting facts came to light. Practically the last person to see Captain Sessle alive was his friend and partner Mr. Hollaby of the Porcupine Assurance Co., and he told his story as follows.
“Sessle and he played a round earlier in the day. After tea the other suggested that they should play a few more holes before it got too dark to see. Hollaby assented. Sessle seemed in good spirits, and was in excellent form. There is a public footpath that crosses the links, and just as they were playing up to the sixth green Hollaby noticed a woman coming along it. She was very tall and dressed in brown, but he did not observe her particularly and Sessle he thought did not notice her at all.
“The footpath in question crosses in front of the seventh tee,” continued Tommy. “The woman had passed along this, and was standing at the farther side, as though waiting. Captain Sessle was the first to reach the tee, as Mr. Hollaby was replacing the pin in the hole. As the latter came towards the tee, he was astonished to see Sessle and the woman talking together. As he came nearer, they both turned abruptly, Sessle calling over his shoulder: ‘Shan’t be a minute.’
“The two of them walked off side by side, still deep in earnest conversation. The footpath there leaves the course, and passing between two narrow hedges of neighboring gardens comes out on the road to Windlesham.
“Captain Sessle was as good as his word. He reappeared within a minute or two, much to Hollaby’s satisfaction, as two other players were coming up behind them, and the light was failing rapidly. They drove off, and at once Hollaby noticed that something had occurred to upset his companion. Not only did he foozle his drive badly, but his face was worried, and his forehead creased in a big frown. He hardly answered his companion’s remarks, and his golf was atrocious. Evidently something had occurred to put him completely off his game.
“They played that hole and the eighth, and then Captain Sessle declared abruptly that the light was too bad and that he was off home. Just at that point there is another of those narrow ‘slips’ leading to the Windlesham road, and Captain Sessle departed that way which was a shortcut to his home, a small bungalow on the road in question. The other two players came up, a Major Barnard and Mr. Lecky, and to them Hollaby mentioned Captain Sessle’s sudden change of manner. They also had seen him speaking to the woman in brown, but had not been near enough to see her face. All three men wondered what she could have said to upset their friend to that extent.
“They returned to the Club House together, and as far as was known at the time, were the last people to see Captain Sessle alive. The day was a Wednesday and on Wednesdays cheap tickets to London are issued. The man and wife who ran Captain Sessle’s small bungalow were up in town according to custom, and did not return until the late train. They entered the
