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"I was in such a funk I had to think of something," said Tommy simply.
There was a moment's pause, and then Tommy reverted to Mrs. Vandemeyer's
death.
"There's no doubt it was chloral?"
"I believe not. At least they call it heart failure induced by an overdose, or some
such claptrap. It's all right. We don't want to be worried with an inquest. But I
guess Tuppence and I and even the highbrow Sir James have all got the same
idea."
"
Mr. Brown?" hazarded Tommy.
Sure thing."
"
Tommy nodded.
"All the same," he said thoughtfully, "Mr. Brown hasn't got wings. I don't see how
he got in and out."
"
How about some high-class thought transference stunt? Some magnetic
influence that irresistibly impelled Mrs. Vandemeyer to commit suicide?"
Tommy looked at him with respect.
"
Good, Julius. Distinctly good. Especially the phraseology. But it leaves me cold. I
yearn for a real Mr. Brown of flesh and blood. I think the gifted young detectives
must get to work, study the entrances and exits, and tap the bumps on their
foreheads until the solution of the mystery dawns on them. Let's go round to the
scene of the crime. I wish we could get hold of Tuppence. The Ritz would enjoy
the spectacle of the glad reunion."
Inquiry at the office revealed the fact that Tuppence had not yet returned.
"
All the same, I guess I'll have a look round upstairs," said Julius. "She might be
in my sitting-room." He disappeared.
Suddenly a diminutive boy spoke at Tommy's elbow:
"
The young lady--she's gone away by train, I think, sir," he murmured shyly.
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