With the expression of a rewarded retriever, Love watched Purbright dial and dispatch introductory civilities to Mrs Staunch. After a while he heard him come to the point.
“Look, something has just crossed my mind—or rather it’s been led across it by my very perceptive sergeant—which could have some bearing on the matter we discussed the other day...That’s right—the two ladies we’re looking for. What I’d like you to do is to think back carefully and see if you can remember anything to suggest someone’s having got into your office—you know, broken in or sneaked in—while you weren’t there...Yes, in the last couple of months or so...”
He hunched the phone between shoulder and ear while he lit a cigarette. Love heard the undulating squeak of whatever Mrs Staunch was saying.
Purbright spoke. “One of the windows...Yes, I know—over the lane at the back...Nothing actually stolen, though...No, I see...No...Anyway, I’m obliged to you...Well, it may and it may not—probably not actually. Thanks all the same. Oh, just one other thing. I’m afraid I’m going to have to take a look for myself at those files of yours. It really can’t be helped...Tomorrow, probably...Fine, yes. I look forward to seeing you again.”
Thoughtfully he replaced the receiver.
“She thinks she had a burglar, as she puts it, not very long after Christmas. She can’t remember exactly. It was during cold weather, though, because that is why she particularly noticed that this window at the back had been left open slightly. Nothing was missing, as far as she knows, but she did get the impression that the stuff in the filing cabinet had been rummaged a bit.”
“There you are, then,” said Love.
“Oh, yes. Here we are, indeed. But you can see what dismal prospect this opens up. Instead of a few dozen suspects, nicely docketed with addresses provided, we now have the entire male population to choose from.”
Love swallowed and glanced down at his shoes. He looked like a man who has flicked away a cherry stone and derailed an express.
“Never mind,” Purbright told him. “It may be simpler to go about things in a different way. The opposite way, actually. So far, we’ve worked on the assumption that the man we want must be one of those who have registered with the agency. We can’t assume that any more. But unless we can find him by another means—and remember that we don’t know the first thing about his appearance or movements or where he lives—all we can do is wait for him to go into operation again.”
“What, kill another woman!”
“Of course not. In any case, we don’t know yet that anybody’s been killed; he may be just laying in a harem, like some of those farmers down on the marsh. No, what I mean is that if we stop chasing round after the hunter and keep watch on the quarry instead, we’ll probably stand a much better chance of nabbing him.”
“You think he’ll have another go, then?”
“Unless he’s moved on, yes. There invariably enters an element of habit into these things, Sid. And it isn’t as if the profits so far have justified retirement. Four hundred pounds doesn’t last long these days, and I can’t see that Miss Reckitt would have had much in the way of realizable assets.”
“I feel sorry for them,” said Love, firmly. It sounded as though he had just made up his mind about something slightly embarrassing.
Purbright gave a slow, thoughtful nod. “So do I. Very sorry. Not because they were robbed. Or murdered, even. It’s the insult that must have really hurt.”
Chapter Nine
Mrs Staunch met the inspector with an expression of repressed excitement and annoyance. Without a word, she admitted him to her office and went straight to the window.
“Now, then—what do you think of that?”
She pointed to the small gap between the sill and the bottom of the frame. Purbright saw marks on the woodwork that suggested the insertion of a screwdriver or chisel. They were fresh marks.
He raised his brows. “Last night?”
“And to think it was just yesterday afternoon that you rang up and I told you about that other time. I don’t know what to think, really!”
“It is odd, isn’t it?” Purbright agreed. He peered at the marks, then examined the rest of the window. The catch was old and loose; it would have slipped off with very little persuasion.
“Anything missing?”
“They’ve been in there again.” Mrs Staunch indicated the filing cabinet.
Purbright took out his handkerchief and eased forward the top drawer. Its contents did seem less tidy than when he had glanced at them on his previous visit.
The significance of the handkerchief was not lost on Mrs Staunch. “I’m afraid I can’t say that I haven’t touched anything, inspector. I didn’t notice the window straight away.”
“No, I shouldn’t have expected you to. It would be as well, though, if we observe the Agatha Christie rules from now on. I’ll get someone over.” He reached for the telephone. “May I?”
In less than ten minutes there arrived Detective Constable Harper, bearing a leather case and a camera the size of a hurdy-gurdy.
The outing was clearly a treat for him. He loped around the little room like an exploring Gibbon and happily spooned great quantities of grey powder on all accessible surfaces, including several that took account of the possibility of the intruder’s having been eight feet tall.
“He won’t hurt anything, you know,” Purbright said to Mrs Staunch in a murmured aside. She did not appear convinced.
“No—those are very private,” she called. Harper had been in the act of lifting some of the folders out of the filing cabinet. He looked inquiringly at Purbright.
“Just the covers, Mr Harper...no, on second thoughts, you’d better leave them alone altogether. If he wore gloves, you’ll be wasting your time, and if he didn’t, there’ll be better prints on what you’ve got already.”
Mrs Staunch gave him a small smile of gratitude. From that point, Harper’s inspiration rapidly evaporated and soon he was dismantling his props and packing lenses and bottles and plates and brushes back in their compartments of the leather case.
“It’s quite a business, isn’t it?” observed Mrs Staunch, rather nervily. The worst part of the ordeal, although she did not say so, had been Harper’s habit of continuously whistling one tune—the March of the Toreadors—through closed teeth while he worked.
Almost immediately after his departure, a buzzer sounded. Mrs Staunch glanced up at an indicator on the wall. One of its pair of electric bulbs flickered for several seconds.
“I’m afraid a client has just come in,” she explained. “Would you mind if I left you now, inspector?”
“Not in the least,” Purbright assured her. “I shall be busy myself for a little while.” He patted the cabinet in explanation. Mrs Staunch hesitated, frowning. Then she shrugged and opened the door. “You will remember what I said, won’t you? About confidences? I mean, they’re the whole essence...” She left the sentence unfinished, but there was a plea in her eyes.
“Of course, Mrs Staunch. I really do understand.”
The door closed.