"Of course you know about the man who was killed in the Tube? The man who had an order to view this same house at Marlow in his pocket."
"Ah!" said the inspector. "You are the Miss Beddingfeld who gave evidence at the inquest. Certainly the man had an order in his pocket. A lot of other people may have had too—only they didn't happen to be killed."
I rallied my forces.
"You don't think it odd that this man had no ticket in his pocket?"
"Easiest thing in the world to drop your ticket. Done it myself."
"And no money."
"He had some loose change in his trousers pocket."
"But no notecase."
"Some men don't carry a pocket-book or notecase of any kind."
I tried another tack.
"You don't think it's odd that the doctor never came forward afterwards?"
"A busy medical man very often doesn't read the papers. He probably forgot all about the accident."
"In fact, inspector, you are determined to find nothing odd," I said sweetly.
"Well, I'm inclined to think you're a little too fond of the word, Miss Beddingfeld. Young ladies are romantic, I know—fond of mysteries and such-like. But as I'm a busy man"
I took the hint and rose.
The man in the corner raised a meek voice.
"Perhaps the young lady would tell us briefly what her ideas really are on the subject, inspector?"
The inspector fell in with the suggestion readily enough.
"Yes, come now, Miss Beddingfeld, don't be offended.
