It was in my pocket,” said Algy Somers.
Montagu Lushington looked at the creased envelope which had come out of Algy’s tail-pocket the night before. He said nothing. Algy went on.
“It’s that envelope-there isn’t any doubt about it at all. I didn’t read the address, as I told you. I didn’t know that I had looked at the envelope, but as soon as I saw that blot I knew I had seen it before, and where. It’s shiny where the ink has dried, and I suppose that must have caught my eye, and I remembered it afterwards, though I didn’t notice it at the time.”
Montagu Lushington looked up.
“The envelope that was taken out of my despatch-case.”
“Yes, sir.”
“The empty envelope.” There was a little weight on the second word.
Algy’s face was set and grave. He said “Yes, sir” again.
“And planted on you-put into your tail-pocket-” The slow almost meditative tone quickened suddenly. “With what object?”
Algy’s face did not change, or his voice. He said,
“I’ve thought about that. It would support the theory that the papers were taken before you went down to Wellings.”
“If it had been found on you-yes.”
“It was intended to be found. I found it too soon, that’s all. Or perhaps I was meant to find it. It may have been part of an attempt to stampede me-I don’t know. There’s a lot of talk going on. I was at the Westgates’ last night. All Linda’s crowd had got the story.”
Mr. Lushington wished-profanely-that someone would tell him how people got hold of these things.
“Well, they do,” said Algy. “The men tell their wives, and the women tell each other-everyone adds a little. But they all know that important papers have gone missing, and most of them are half way to believing I took them. Somewhere about day after tomorrow they’ll be quite sure I did. Then it’s finish for me.”
Montagu Lushington looked down at the envelope again.
“I don’t see why this was planted on you.”
Algy had one of those flashes. He said,
“Has no one suggested having my rooms searched?”
He got a quick upward glance. There was a pause, and Lushington said,
“I should not have entertained such a suggestion.”
“But it was made?” Algy’s tone warmed a little.
“I think that is a question which should not be put.”
“But I do put it, sir. I don’t see how I’m to meet this thing unless I know what I’m up against.”
“Very well then, you may take it that the suggestion has been made.”
“By whom?” Algy was pale.
“Do you expect me to tell you that?” said Montagu Lushington.
“Yes, I do, sir. You have just asked me why this envelope should have been planted in my pocket. I say it was planted in order that it might be found there. How was it going to be found there? My rooms were to be searched. Don’t you think I have a right to know who has been suggesting that my rooms should be searched?”
Montagu Lushington said abruptly, “It was Carstairs. That makes nonsense of your suggestion, but the person who planted the envelope might have had knowledge of the line which Carstairs was taking-there is that.”
“I’m not making any suggestion about Mr. Carstairs-he’s out of the question. But someone thought, or hoped, that there would be a search, and was willing to take a risk in order to make sure that something would be found. If you had authorized the search, and that envelope had been found in my coat, no one in the world would have believed that I was innocent. It would have been absolutely damning.”
Montagu Lushington said, “Yes.” Then, after a pause, “When do you think it was planted, and how?”
“Well, I found it last night when I was dressing to go to the Westgates‘, and it wasn’t there the day before. At least, it wasn’t there till four o’clock, because Barker-that’s the man at my rooms-had the suit to press and lay out. I’ve asked him, and he’s quite sure that there was nothing in any of the pockets. He put the things out for me somewhere about four o’clock, and then he and his wife went out. They go over to see her mother, and if I’m dining out they don’t hurry back. I meant to dine out, but Mr. Carstairs gave me the Babington stuff to type, and when I saw I wasn’t going to get done in time, I rang up and said I couldn’t get round till after dinner-and I didn’t get done till a quarter to nine. The point is that I had to rush back and dress in a hurry. If the envelope had been in my pocket then, I don’t think I should have noticed it.”
“You mean someone might have got into your rooms between four and nine and have planted it then?”
“Yes, sir.”
Montagu Lushington looked at him keenly.
“Very anxious to prove that it wasn’t so likely to have been done later, aren’t you, Algy?”
The blood came up into Algy’s face. He said,
“No, sir.”
“Oh, not unnaturally. Now I think we’ll have the rest of your evening.”
Algy stiffened a little.
“I called for a girl, and we went to the Ducks and Drakes.”
“Her name?”
“Gay Hardwicke.”
Montagu frowned slightly.
“Hardwicke-there’s a Miss Agatha Hardwicke who bombards me and the papers with letters on the subject of capital punishment. She’s secretary of some society or other. Rather a terrifying female.”
“An aunt,” said Algy gloomily. “Gay is staying with her. They’re cousins of Lady Colesborough’s.”
He got another keen look.
“Known this young lady long?”
“About three months, sir.”
“Well, you took her to the Ducks and Drakes. Were you alone, or in a party?”
“We went there alone, but we joined up with the Wessex-Gardners.”
“What!” It was more of an exclamation than a word. A disturbed look crossed Montagu Lushington’s face. “I should like to know who you danced with.”
“Poppy Wessex-Gardner, Sylvia Colesborough, and Gay-mostly with Gay.”
“Could one of them have put the envelope in your pocket?”
“Not while we were dancing.”
“But you sat out?”
“We sat at a table and had drinks, and things to eat-I hadn’t had any dinner.”
“Yes, it could have been done then. You agree?”
“I suppose so.”
“Who were the men of the party?”
“Wessex-Gardner and his brother. His brother’s wife was there too. And a man called Danvers -I don’t know anything about him-and Brewster.”
“I didn’t know Brewster went to night-clubs.”
Algy laughed, not very cheerfully.
“He doesn’t. Mrs. Wessex-Gardner dragged him, and he’s fallen for Sylvia Colesborough-a hopeless, respectful passion-she didn’t even know he was there half the time.”
“I can imagine that! What was this man Danvers like?”
“A bit of an outsider, I thought-the I’ll-tell-the-world-I-did-it touch. He seemed to go down very well with Mrs. Wessex-Gardner.”
“Yes,” said Montagu Lushington-“an old friend. At least so I gathered.”
“What-he was at Wellings?”
Lushington shook his head.
“Not quite. He was expected, but he didn’t turn up-at least not on the crucial Saturday. I believe he came over on the Sunday afternoon, but Maud and I had motored over to Hindon, so we did not see him. I wish now that we had, because it comes to this-any one of these people could have put that envelope in your pocket.”
Algy thought for a moment.
“I suppose they could-” he said.