George was puzzled. He’d kept an eye out for Daisy, but he hadn’t seen her yet. He’d been sure she’d be at that oily French charmer’s table early. He fancied that the St-Remy’s looked rather anxious. And so they should — they were about to be unmasked as a pair of jewel thieves!
He’d seen Mrs Peabody, from the back, swathed in some purple chiffon that clashed rather badly with her bright red wig. She was sitting at a table at the far right of the room, eating heartily, deep in conversation with her companions. His other suspects sat a few tables away, harmlessly engaged in chatter with a couple of ladies. And there, in the centre of the room, surrounded by a circle of adoring young men, was Olivia Marlow, looking like a Greek goddess in a simple white dress, her only ornament — and what an ornament — the Blue Moon diamond necklace, winking defiantly out from her delicate throat. She talked and laughed as if she hadn’t a care in the world, and George’s heart swelled with admiration for her nerve. It wasn’t every woman who’d consent to being the bait for a jewel thief who would stop at nothing!
The band was quite as good as its reputation. The dance floor was filling up with couples. Still no sign of Daisy. George was beginning to feel a little worried. What had happened to her? Was she sick? Should he go and ask Mrs Peabody? He looked over at the St-Remys. Victor looked restless; his eyes kept roving from side to side. Ha! He’s obviously expecting her too, thought George, grimly. But she’s stood you up, my friend, and serve you right. Still, it did seem odd. Daisy had seemed to have eyes for no-one but Victor earlier …
He got up and slipped through the tables to Mrs Peabody’s table. He cleared his throat. ‘Er, excuse me, Mrs Peabody …’
The woman turned around and George gasped. This was not Mrs Peabody, but a complete stranger! From the front, she looked nothing like the Australian. She had a broad, haughty face and a pair of ice-blue eyes that looked very frostily at him indeed. ‘What do you want, young man?’
The whole table was looking at him. George coloured. ‘Er … sorry … I made a mistake … I was looking for Mrs Peabody …’
‘This is the Duchess of Medlarshire, young man,’ snapped one of the men at the table. ‘Have you no manners, imposing yourself like this?’ The woman herself didn’t deign to say anything more, and after one haughty look, turned her back firmly on George. Scarlet, murmuring excuses, he backed away, feeling like a prize idiot. Oh, well at least now Daisy’s absence made more sense. Mrs Peabody must have kept her upstairs, working. Pretty mean, really, on a night like this, but there you go. It happened.
The band took a break as a clatter of crockery announced the entry of the first course. Poor Daisy, George thought, she’s going to miss out!
At that moment, the waiters who’d been hovering around the St-Remy table moved aside and George, to his horror, saw that Victor had vanished. He must have taken advantage of the commotion to slip out unobserved! Oh gosh, thought George in a panic, Woodley-Foxe told me not to let any of our suspects from my sight! The other three — the Countess, Meyer and Felici were still at their tables, but St-Remy was nowhere to be seen! I must find him, thought George.
He sprang up, colliding with a waiter hovering just at his elbow. The man gave a surprised gasp and the dish he was holding went flying all over the people at the next table. Ignoring the shouts and protests, George fled the room.
George caught sight of St-Remy immediately. He was about to step into the lift. ‘Wait!’ George shouted and dashed across the lounge. He fully expected Victor to just close the lift door, but he didn’t. Instead he stepped to one side to let George enter.
‘Whatever’s the matter, Mr Dale? You look as though the devil himself is after you.’
George coloured. ‘I was just … just … er … going to see if Daisy was all right.’
‘What a coincidence,’ said Victor, coldly. ‘So was I.’
They went up in an uncomfortable silence. On the third floor, Victor walked briskly to Room 38. George followed. They knocked. There was a little silence, then Daisy’s voice quavered, ‘Who … who is it?’
‘It’s me,’ said George before Victor could answer. ‘Oh, and Victor St-Remy,’ he added, grudgingly, as the door abruptly opened and Daisy appeared, looking rather flustered.
‘Thank heavens it’s you,’ said Daisy. ‘I thought it might be an accomplice of hers.’ Seeing their blank expressions, she pointed to the bathroom. ‘Have a look.’
They went in. George knelt down beside the captive. ‘I’ve never seen this person before,’ he said. ‘Who is it?’
‘I think it might be The Shadow,’ said Daisy.
George whistled. Victor said, ‘What? What is The Shadow?’
George and Daisy looked at each other. George tried to telegraph a ‘no’ with his eyes, but Daisy ignored it. ‘The Shadow is a thief who steals diamonds,’ she said.
Victor smiled faintly. He looked down at their prisoner. ‘A hotel rat, you mean. I’ve heard of them. Often they’re women. They steal jewels from people’s rooms when they’re otherwise engaged.’ He looked at Daisy. ‘Did she have any loot on her?’
‘Not that I could see. She was rummaging about in my bathroom, but I couldn’t see anything missing. Not that there is anything to take!’ She paused. ‘I can’t understand what she thought she might find.’
‘Thieves are opportunistic,’ said Victor. ‘And they’re not often very bright.’
George said, slowly, ‘If it is The Shadow, a lot of people will be greatly relieved. You’ve already caught the crook. Olivia Marlow’s diamonds are safe.’
‘What?’ repeated Victor. He looked from George to Daisy. ‘Would someone mind explaining to me what this is all about?’ he said, frostily.
‘Well,’ began George, ‘it’s confidential, really, and I …’
Victor looked at Daisy. ‘But you knew about it.’
Daisy could see he was upset. She felt bad. ‘I wanted to tell you,’ she said, ‘but …’
‘But you didn’t trust me. ‘
Daisy went red. ‘Oh Victor, that’s not true! I didn’t know about The Shadow till this afternoon, when George told me. Then tonight I saw this woman sneaking in and out of people’s rooms, obviously up to no good. I thought at first it might be Mrs Peabody, but it clearly isn’t, and so I …’
‘Wait, wait,’ said George. ‘Why did you think it was Mrs Peabody?’
Daisy looked quickly at Victor. He raised an eyebrow. ‘Something else you haven’t told me?’ he said.
‘Oh, Victor, I …’
‘Oh stop it, St-Remy,’ said George, angrily. ‘Let her speak. This is important.’
The two young men glared at each other. Then Victor shrugged. ‘Go on, then,’ he said.
Daisy could see he was still annoyed. It was beginning to make her cross now, too. But she said nothing about it. Quickly, she told them what she’d seen, and what she suspected.
George’s eyes widened. He nodded.
‘And she could very well have got into Charlton Hall, she was in the vicinity. All very odd,’ he said. ‘I can see why you were suspicious.’ He couldn’t resist adding, ‘I won’t say I told you so …’
‘But you will, anyway,’ said Daisy, smiling. ‘All right, George, you can gloat to your heart’s content, but later.’
‘In any case, this isn’t Mrs Peabody,’ said Victor.
‘No, but Mrs Peabody’s not at the dance either,’ said George. ‘Is she in her room?’
Daisy shook her head. ‘Irene — her maid — said she’d gone out.’
Slowly George said, ‘I had a thought, earlier — maybe we’re not just dealing with one person, but a gang. An international gang of crooks. See, this person here — she might be part of it, but she can’t be the only one. Because the person who set upon my boss at Charlton Hall was bigger and stronger, and wearing a coat that stank of a certain cigar blend. It’s a very rare blend. My employer, Mr Woodley-Foxe, who’s made a study of such things, recognised it at once. It’s real evidence. You’ve got to take that into account.’ He gave Victor a sideways glance. ‘The … er … there’s a list of people who bought that blend. There was no mention of Mrs Peabody on that list.’
Victor raised an eyebrow. ‘Why should it be someone who bought the cigars?’
‘That’s right,’ said Daisy, eagerly. ‘Maybe it was someone who had a cigar given to them, or who was even in a house where one of them was being smoked? You know how clothes hold the smell of smoke, George.’
George was crestfallen. ‘Oh Lord! Of course, you’re right! That rather widens our list, doesn’t it? I think we had better …’
At that moment, the light went out and they were plunged into darkness.