Clarissa went to the sofa. "Pippa," she called, "where did you put... ? Oh, she's asleep."
Mrs. Brown moved to the sofa and looked down at the child. "Fast asleep," she confirmed. "It's all the excitement that's done that." She looked at Clarissa. "I'll tell you what," she said, "I'll carry her up and dump her on her bed."
"No," said Sir Rowland sharply.
Everyone looked at him. "She's no weight at all," Mrs. Brown pointed out. "Not a quarter as heavy as the late Mr. Costello."
"All the same," Sir Rowland insisted, "I think she'll be safer here."
The others now all looked at Miss Peake/Mrs. Brown, who took a step backwards, looked around her, and exclaimed indignantly, "Safer?"
"That's what I said," Sir Rowland told her. He glanced around the room and continued, "That child said a very significant thing just now."
He sat down at the bridge table, watched by all. There was a pause, and then Hugo, moving to sit opposite Sir Rowland at the bridge table, asked, "What did she say, Roly?"
"If you all think back," Sir Rowland suggested, "perhaps you'll realise what it was."
His hearers looked at one another, while Sir Rowland picked up the copy of Who's Who and began to consult it.
"I don't get it," Hugo admitted, shaking his head.
"What did Pippa say?" Jeremy wondered aloud.
"I can't imagine," said Clarissa. She tried to cast her mind back. "Something about the policeman? Or dreaming? Coming down here? Half-awake?"
"Come on, Roly," Hugo urged his friend. "Don't be so damned mysterious. What's this all about?"
Sir Rowland looked up from Who's Who. "What?" he asked absent-mindedly. "Oh, yes. Those autographs. Where are they?"
Hugo snapped his fingers. "I believe I remember Pippa putting them in that shell box over there," he recalled.
Jeremy went over to the bookshelves. "Over here?" he asked. Locating the shell box, he took out the envelope. "Yes, quite right. Here we are," he confirmed as he took the autographs from the envelope and handed them to Sir Rowland, who had now closed Who's Who. Jeremy put the empty envelope in his pocket while Sir Rowland examined the autographs with his eyeglass.
"Victoria Regina, God bless her," murmured Sir Rowland, looking at the first of the autographs. "Queen Victoria. Faded brown ink. Now, what's this one? John Ruskin – yes, that's authentic, I should say. And this one? Robert Browning... hm... the paper's not as old as it ought to be."
"Roly! What do you mean?" Clarissa asked excitedly.
"I had some experience of invisible inks and that sort of thing, during the war," Sir Rowland explained. "If you wanted to make a secret note of something, it wouldn't be a bad idea to write it in invisible ink on a sheet of paper, and then fake an autograph. Put that autograph with other genuine autographs and nobody would notice it or look at it twice, probably. Any more than we did."
Mrs. Brown looked puzzled. "But what could Charles Sellon have written which would be worth fourteen thousand pounds?" she wanted to know.
"Nothing at all, dear lady," Sir Rowland replied. "But it occurs to me, you know, that it might have been a question of safety."
"Safety?" Mrs. Brown queried.
"Oliver Costello," Sir Rowland explained, "is suspected of supplying drugs. Sellon, so the Inspector tells us, was questioned once or twice by the Narcotic Squad. There's a connection there, don't you think?"
When Mrs. Brown merely looked blank, he continued, "Of course, it might be just a foolish idea of mine." He looked down at the autograph he was holding. "I don't think it would be anything elaborate on Sellon's part. Lemon juice, perhaps, or a solution of barium chloride. Gentle heat might do the trick. We can always try iodine vapour later. Yes, let's try a little gentle heat first."
He rose to his feet. "Shall we attempt the experiment?"
"There's an electric fire in the library," Clarissa remembered. "Jeremy, will you get it?"
Hugo rose and tucked in his chair, while Jeremy went off to the library.
"We can plug it in here," Clarissa pointed out, indicating a socket in the skirting-board running around the drawing-room.
"The whole thing's ridiculous," Mrs. Brown snorted. "It's too far-fetched for words."
Clarissa disagreed. "No, it isn't. I think it's a wonderful idea," she declared, as Jeremy returned from the library carrying a small electric radiator. "Got it?" she asked him.
"Here it is," he replied. "Where's the plug?"
"Down there," Clarissa told him, pointing to the socket. She held the radiator while Jeremy plugged its lead into the socket, and then she put it down on the floor.
Sir Rowland took the Robert Browning autograph and stood close to the radiator. Jeremy knelt by it, and the others stood as close as possible to observe the result.
"We mustn't hope for too much," Sir Rowland warned them. "After all, it's only an idea of mine, but there must have been some very good reason why Sellon kept these bits of paper in such a secret place."
"This takes me back years," Hugo recalled. "I remember writing secret messages with lemon juice when I was a kid."
"Which one shall we start with?" Jeremy asked enthusiastically.
"I say Queen Victoria," said Clarissa.
"No, six to one on Ruskin," was Jeremy's guess.
"Well, I'm putting my money on Robert Browning," Sir Rowland decided, bending over and holding the paper in front of the radiator.
"Ruskin? Most obscure chap. I never could understand a word of his poetry," Hugo felt moved to comment.
"Exactly," Sir Rowland agreed. "It's full of hidden meaning."
They all craned over Sir Rowland. "I can't bear it if nothing happens," Clarissa exclaimed.
"I believe... yes, there's something there," Sir Rowland murmured.
"Yes, there is something coming up," Jeremy noticed.
"Is there? Let me see," said Clarissa excitedly.
Hugo pushed between Clarissa and Jeremy. "Out of the way, young man."
"Steady," Sir Rowland complained. "Don't joggle me... yes... there is writing." He paused for a moment, and then straightened up with a cry of "We've got it!"
"What have you got?" Mrs. Brown wanted to know.
"A list of six names and addresses," Sir Rowland told them. "Distributors in the drug racket, I should say. And one of those names is Oliver Costello."
There were exclamations all around. "Oliver!" said Clarissa. "So that's why he came, and someone must have followed him and – oh, Uncle Roly, we must tell the police. Come along, Hugo."
Clarissa rushed to the hall door, followed by Hugo who, as he went, was muttering, "Most extraordinary thing I ever heard of." Sir Rowland picked up the other autographs, while Jeremy unplugged the radiator and took it back into the library.
About to follow Clarissa and Hugo out, Sir Rowland paused in the doorway. "Coming, Miss Peake?" he asked.
"You don't need me, do you?"
"I think we do. You were Sellon's partner."
"I've never had anything to do with the drug business," Mrs. Brown insisted. "I just ran the antique side. I did all the London buying and selling."
"I see," Sir Rowland replied noncommittally as he held the hall door open for her. They both left, and a moment later Jeremy returned from the library, closing the door carefully behind him. He went over to the hall door and listened for a moment, then returned to the centre of the room. After a glance at Pippa, he went over to the easy chair, picked up the cushion from it, and moved slowly back towards the sofa where Pippa lay sleeping.
Pippa stirred in her sleep. Jeremy stood frozen for a moment, but when he was certain she was still asleep, he continued towards the sofa until he stood behind Pippa's head. Then, slowly, he began to lower the cushion over her face.
At that moment, Clarissa re-entered the room from the hall. Hearing the door, Jeremy carefully placed the cushion over Pippa's feet. "I remembered what Sir Rowland said," he explained to Clarissa, "so I thought perhaps we oughtn't to leave Pippa all alone. Her feet seemed a bit cold, so I was just covering them up."