The Affair of the Ellsworth Women

by Frank Knebel

Chapter 3

Friday, 6 November, 4.00 AM

(From Major Bosworth’s narrative)

INSPECTOR McAULIFFE crossed the small ballroom to the table where we sat.

     “All search parties are out now, sir,” he reported to Sapp in his soft Scots’ burr. “I’ve managed to get twenty men out patrolling in pairs, and there’ll be eight more available in a few hours. I’ve also put a call through to Inspector Carrington in Greenhampton. He’ll get back to us as soon as he’s able.”

     “Very good,” Sapp said with a nod of approval. “The only question is whether they’ve been kept in some hiding place close by or spirited out of town.”

     “Well if they’re being held nearby, our lads will find them, Chief Inspector,” said McAuliffe confidently.

     “I hope you’re right,” sighed Sapp. “Any reports from the laboratory men yet?”

     “The only fingerprints on the handbags and contents seem to be those of their owners and, judging from the cash found in them, it appears that no money was taken. There were no prints on either the door of the cupboard where the maid was found or the door leading to the alley. The scratches on the lock of the alley door were new. It may have been picked with a tool or a wire.”

     Sapp nodded again.

     “Thank you, Inspector. Carry on.”

     McAuliffe hurried out. Sapp had set up a headquarters for his investigation in a small meeting room offered by the Frankland Hotel. A telephone, manned by Sergeant Wilson, sat on a small table nearby, and a uniformed sergeant and a woman police constable were handling written reports at another. Peugeot, Richard, and I sat with Sapp. Miss Lime and Mrs. Oliphant had been sent home in a taxi, and Melinda, Maggie, Valerie, and Brenda were resting upstairs in rooms taken by Richard and me. Peugeot had also taken a room, though he had remained with Sapp all though the last few hours’ activity. The little man seemed lost in thought.

     “Are you sure that you gentlemen wouldn’t be better off upstairs with your ladies?” Sapp asked with surprising gentleness. “There’s really very little to do but wait right now, and we know your room numbers if there should be any news.”

     Richard’s eyes were heavy with need of sleep.

     “I suppose that Val does need me now,” he said, “ and I certainly could use a few hours’ sleep, but I don’t know if I actually could sleep knowing that my sisters may be at the mercy of some madman.”

     “I think, Sir Richard,” said Peugeot, “that you should retire to your good wife. Your presence in this room will have much less effect on your sisters’ quick return than the quite excellent search of the police. Lady Valerie and Madame Bosworth need you more at this time.”

     Richard looked doubtful for a moment, but nodded at last.

     “You are right, M. Peugeot,” Richard said. He turned to Sapp. “You’ll call if there’s any news…” He paused uneasily. “… Any news at all?”

     Sapp nodded.

     “Try not to worry, Sir Richard,” he said reassuringly. “We’ll get them both back.”

     “Thank you, Chief Inspector,” Richard replied wearily.

     He walked slowly in the direction of the lifts.

     “I wish I had as much confidence as that sounded,” said Sapp. He sat down again and rubbed his chin with one of his big hands, glancing at the pensive figure of Peugeot seated next to him. When the little man said nothing, Sapp began to talk.

     “I don’t quite know what to make of it, Peugeot. It looks for all the world like the same case we had before with this crowd: women seemingly abducted, and others tied, gagged, and blindfolded. But if I’m any judge after twenty five years at the Yard, I’d say that those women who were in on it last year were telling the absolute truth when they said that they didn’t know anything about it this time.”

     “And,” I offered, “most of the girls who were in the gang were in sight of several of us while the abduction was going on. I don’t see how they could be involved in this. Still, there are a few of the group whose whereabouts are yet unknown. It’s possible that they’re the ones behind it.”

     Peugeot nodded thoughtfully at our remarks.

     “What you say is very true, my friends.” He looked at me. “Most of the women of the ‘Greenhampton Gang’ were in our presence when Mesdemoiselles Julia and Daphne were taken, which rules out their participation in this affair. The remaining members, Mesdemoiselles Noble and Ford and a few others, were not leaders. They could be behind this, but it seems rather unlikely.”

     “We’re checking on Cheryl Ford being with that touring company,” said Sapp. “We should know more about her in a few hours’ time.”

     Peugeot nodded.

     “And, while it is a dangerous assumption to make that even an experienced investigator always knows the truth from a lie, I would agree that Mademoiselle Riddle, Mademoiselle Shaw, and Madame Bosworth seem to know nothing of this matter. There was much method in your remark about drugging bystanders or anyone else as being too extreme for the women of the other case. They had done nothing so dangerous before. And there is one difference in the abduction of the Ellsworth sisters here from any of the incidents before.”

     We looked at him expectantly.

     “This attempt to carry off the young women was successful,” finished Peugeot. “Though to what end, we do not know. We can only wait.”

     It was a kind of waiting I had not known since years before when, as a twenty-one year old subaltern, I had stood in the trenches on the Somme awaiting the order to attack. On that occasion, in one morning my battalion of eight hundred men had been reduced to barely one hundred survivors, and I had been twice wounded. I fervently hoped for a happier outcome of this wait.

     Time passed slowly for the helpless, mute, and sightless Ellsworth sisters in their unknown prison. Their struggles had only exhausted the nearly naked girls without gaining any slack in their ropes or loosening of the knots that held them. From time to time they both dozed briefly, in reaction to the drug they had been forced to breathe as well as from weariness brought on by their futile efforts at freedom.

     Julia remained tightly fastened to a post. Her head drooped over her chest, and small streams of saliva that escaped the tape over the sodden packing in her mouth ran down onto her firm though not overly large breasts. At first Julia had fought against the desire to sleep in her bonds, fearing that the beam might not be quite as solid as she believed, and that it might collapse should she lean all her weight on the ropes in one direction. Later she had desperately hoped that the beam might break and offer her some chance of escape. But the round wooden pole was quite sturdy, and the many turns of rope around her and it kept her firmly and not too uncomfortably in place. The only slight soreness was in her neck, as her head was free to fall in any direction.

     Daphne Ellsworth lay hog-tied upon a rude mattress or pad of some kind on the floor. Her hopeless, blindfolded attempt to crawl to Julia and somehow release her ankle bindings had resulted in her captor using sticking-plaster to wrap up her fingers as in a boxer’s gloves. Though Daphne’s struggles had done almost nothing to achieve her freedom, the girl had found that her right hand, which lay crossed under her left, had been wrapped rather carelessly. Slow and painstaking work was making the plaster noticeably looser. Perhaps in time she might be able to slip it off, though she would still be far from free. She wondered how much time that they had left before their captors returned to carry out their dire threats.

     The sound of the lock of the room door being opened came to their ears like a pistol shot. The mechanical noises of the room had temporarily ceased and all was quiet. Though the room was still warm, it seemed cooler that previously.

     “Well, well, my pretties. Enjoying yer stay ‘ere, are yer?”

     It was the crone voice they had heard before. Daphne stirred and mewed indignantly into her gag. Julia was resigned and silent. The woman put a toe under Daphne’s shoulder and rolled her over onto her side.

     “Not very ‘appy, eh?” the hag exulted. “Never fear, time’s almost up, m’ dears. And yer’ll be wantin’ ter know wot we ‘ave in store for yer, won’tcher? Well, I’m goin’ ter tell yer now. But first, yer get ter see a bit of us.”

     There was a pause as something was laid on the floor not far from the girls. Julia felt pulling on the plaster over her eyes, and a moment later it was pulled away, taking the cotton-wool pads under it. Though the room was probably rather dark with only one small, very dirty window high up to Julia’s right admitting early morning light, it seemed quite bright after the absolute blackness of the blindfold.

     There were two figures standing before Julia. One was a tall, bulky-looking man, in a long camel-coloured overcoat and wide brimmed hat, all features in between being covered by a dark cloth hood. As Julia’s eyes adjusted to the light, she could see that there were two eye holes in the front of the hood. In one gloved hand, the figure clasped an empty champagne bottle. The other figure, bending over Daphne and freeing her blindfold, was that of a woman dressed in some sort of colourfully mismatched gipsy attire of boots, long peasant skirt and jacket, and some kind of dark poncho-like cape. Her grey hair hung down in long curls, over which a bright green headscarf was bound. A black scarf with eye holes was stretched over her face and tied behind her head. Her thick gloves hampered her efforts to peel the plaster from Daphne’s eyes, but after a few tries it came free. The blond girl blinked in surprise as the woman stood up and put her hands on her hips, surveying the captives with obvious glee.

     “Ain’t that better?” she crowed. “Oh, don’t fink we’re doin’ it ter be kind! The boss ‘ere wanted ter see the two o’ yer in the flesh, as it were, while yer was still warm and comfortable, didn’t yer, duckie?”

     The tall figure looked from one sister to the other saying nothing, but nodding slowly.

     “And we bof wanted ter see the looks on yer faces when yer ‘ear wot we’ve got planned. Yer see, m’ luvs, in a few minutes the two o’ yer ‘re goin’ ter be taken out of ‘ere fer a little boat ride on the Thames.”

     She paused for effect and, watching the captives’ reactions carefully, reached down to pull on the waistband of Daphne’s knickers.

     “Once we’re a good ways out, we’ll cut these cute little knickers right off th’ bof o’ yer. We brought yer clothes along—“ She pointed to a bundle on the floor nearby—“an’ they’ll be put inter sacks we’ve loaded wiv stones. Th’ sacks’ll be tied ter yer feet, an’ the two o’ yer’ll be thrown over the side. It shouldn’t be a great trick fer an Ellsworf ter swim back ter shore bound and gagged!”

     The hag burst into a fit of hysterical laughter. The eyes of the two helpless girls had grown wide with alarm as the woman’s story had continued. Now they both protested and pleaded into their gags, shaking their heads and struggling anew with their bonds.

     “Aren’t they precious?” the crone mockingly asked her companion. She took Daphne by her blond hair and turned her face and tear-filled eyes to the man, who remained impassive. “They’re jus’ the most darling li’le fings yer’ll ever see. It’s a bloomin’ shame they ‘ave ter die so young!”

     The man lifted the champagne bottle. The hag stepped over and took it from him.

     “Yer right! We should toast ‘em, th’ late Ellsworf sisters. Too bad the champagne’s gone. Yer lot drank it all at the party last night.”

     She turned to her right, raised the bottle over her right shoulder and flung it against the wall, shattering it into pieces.

     “Well, we ‘ave ter make some final arrangements, ladies. Enjoy yer last few minutes. We won’t keep yer waitin’ too long.”

     The two figures turned and strode quickly for the door. It closed behind them.

     Julia and Daphne moaned into their gags and struggled futilely. Tears rolled down Daphne’s cheeks as she worked frantically at the sticking-plaster around the fingers of her right hand. Her desperation gave her added strength for within moments it slipped off. With a cry into her gag, she succeeded in drawing Julia’s attention and waved her freed fingers at her. Julia looked about desperately for some way to make use of Daphne’s success. Her eyes swept the room a few times before she noticed the broken champagne

     bottle. With a loud mew to her sister, Julia wagged her head toward the broken glass.

     Daphne saw at once what Julia had seen. With great effort she crawled toward the pieces of bottle some fifteen feet away, racing against time and her bonds. Within a minute or so she was close enough to search for a hopeful looking shard of green glass. Locating one, the girl turned her back to the glass and searched for the piece she had seen by carefully probing with her fingers. She found a good sized piece with what she judged to be a suitable edge and began sawing on the cord that bound her wrists to her ankles. Though she did not see how there could possibly be enough time to complete her task, Daphne doggedly continued. Suddenly, she felt the ropes give. A moment later her feet fell free. She regripped the shard of glass and started on the ropes encircling her wrists. Within a few minutes, the cords began to fray and she was able to separate her wrists!

     With a mew of delight, Daphne nodded to her closely watching sister, and within a few seconds was able to bring her hands from behind her back. Julia nodded encouragement to her as Daphne slipped the ropes around her arms and torso up enough to raise her hands to her face and begin peeling away the sticking-plaster over her mouth. Reaching up a bit more she was able to pull down the gag tie and force out the wadding.

     “Just give me a moment to untie my feet, Julia,” she gasped. “I’ll have you free in no time.”

     Daphne was surprised to see Julia shake her head vigorously as she started to work on her ankle ties. It was something of an awkward task with her ankles crossed, and Daphne had to cut the bonds around her knees before she could undo the others. All the while Julia continued to gesture with her head, urging her sister to get away. When she was finally free of all her bonds, Daphne got shakily to her feet and went to Julia’s aid, starting with removal of the gag. She peeled away the sticking-plaster and untied the scarf that had been banded about Julia’s head to hold the wadding in her mouth. Julia ejected the wad and took in a few deep breaths before she was able to speak. Daphne took the edge of the glass shard and started cutting the ropes holding her sister to the post.

     “Daphne!” Julia exclaimed breathlessly. “You must get away from here and bring help! Never mind about me now! You can’t take the time! We’ll both be safe if you bring the police. They may return at any second and recapture us if you stop to free me!”

     “Nonsense!” Daphne replied. “I’m not going without you, so just be quiet and hold still. They may be satisfied with throwing just one bound and gagged Ellsworth into the Thames, but they’re not going to get the chance!”

     Within three minutes Julia was free. The bundle of their clothes was only a few feet away, but the girls did not stop to dress. Throwing their coats over their nearly naked bodies, they tucked the rest of their things under their arms and hurried to the door. Julia tried the knob. It was unlocked. Cautiously she opened it and peered into the hallway beyond.

     They were apparently in some sort of basement. The room in which they had been held was next to the heating machinery of some large building. The corridor seemed empty. Julia led the way into the hallway. They could see stairs at one end. The other faded away to darkness. Julia gestured toward the stairway. Julia slipped the high-heeled shoes off her feet.

     “Let’s try this way,” she whispered.

     Daphne removed her shoes too, and the two young women slowly and cautiously went in that direction. They encountered no one. At the top of the stairs was a windowless door. Julia put her hand on the knob to open it, but her sister forestalled her by placing her own hand on Julia’s arm.

     “There may be a guard outside,” she cautioned.

     Julia looked apprehensively at the door.

     “There might be,” she replied. “But I don’t see what choice we have. If there is a guard we’ll have to knock him down and make a run for it.”

     Daphne looked from her sister’s face to the door and back again. She gulped and nodded.

     “I’m ready.”

     Julia grasped the handle and threw the door open. The two were surprised and relieved to find no one standing there. They were in an alley bordered by large buildings. Julia pointed to a visible opening to a street to their right.

     “That way.”

     The two young women ran from the door toward what looked like the best chance for freedom. It was rather overcast now, but even the muted light of day filled them with hope. Their bare feet slapped the macadam of the alley as they ran. A car or two passed the opening onto the next street ahead. Julia, more slender and athletic than Daphne, had a lead of several strides when she reached the end of the last building. She turned with a grin to urge Daphne on the last few yards only to see Daphne stop. The blonde’s hands flew to her mouth in surprise and terror, and she gave a small yelp of alarm. Julia had just begun to turn forward when she collided with someone who had just reached the corner. The girl staggered backward and fell to the ground in a seated position. She looked ahead to see the bottom hem of a camel-coloured overcoat. She also screamed.

     A pleasant-looking, sandy-haired and moustached man of about thirty-five was looking quizzically down at her. Two other men behind him came alongside. There was no mistaking them in their dark blue uniforms and tall helmets. They were police.

     “My God!” the man in the overcoat said in a soft Scots’ burr. “You’re the Ellsworth sisters, aren’t you?”

     “It was the most terrifying thing you can imagine!” exclaimed Daphne. “Ouch!”

     Dr. Carruthers’ application of some antiseptic to an abrasion on the girl’s wrist had caused the expressive punctuation to her equally expressive remark. We all sat in the police headquarters room in the Frankland Hotel. We had been resting, though hardly sleeping, in our rooms upstairs when Sergeant Wilson had roused us a half-hour before with the report that Julia and Daphne had been found. The expressions of joy of the remaining women of our party been so effusive that immediate medical treatment of the Ellsworth sisters would have had to wait, even had the doctor been at hand. Brenda, Valerie, Melinda, and Maggie had taken the two escaped heroines to the ladies’ powder room in order for them to dress and clean up a bit before the necessary ordeal of police questioning began. On this occasion, the party was escorted by four policewomen, and eventually Sapp had to send in another to remind the ladies that more haste might make it possible for the police to apprehend the kidnappers.

     Now we were gathered round them as Dr. Carruthers and a nurse tended to their injuries and we all awaited the universal British restorative, the “good hot cup of tea.” As the medical treatment proceeded, we had been given an account of what had happened during their confinement and escape. Though the girls tended to be somewhat disjointed in their tale, Sapp and Peugeot had questioned the two skilfully, getting them to go back over points left out, and had achieved in eliciting a fairly comprehensive recital of the facts.

     “Très interéssant!” murmured Peugeot thoughtfully.

     “How horrible!” exclaimed Melinda. “To think that they would actually want to do away with you by throwing you into the Thames bound and gagged!”

     “What kind of person would do such a thing?” asked Lady Valerie.

     Sapp shook his head sadly.

     “I’ve seen a good deal of cruelty in my years on the force, Lady Valerie. It’s hard to believe that people could look so ordinary and be such devils.”

     Julia had been watching the nurse apply a bandage to her left wrist. She added:

     “And the worst of it was that I can think of no one who would have that kind of hatred for us. It’s not as though the Ellsworths routinely put widows and orphans into the streets, or ruin lives or businesses.

     “It may be something that you’d hardly be aware of, milady,” said Sapp. “You know this type, don’t you Peugeot?”

     My friend nodded. I noticed that his eyes had the familiar green glint of the cat that I knew so very well.

     “For some les insultes, the smallest actions or slights, events très insignifiantes, très mesquines become reasons for revenge most violent. That is true madness.”

     Sapp nodded.

     “I’d say that we have a madman here, and perhaps a madwoman as well.”

     Daphne shuddered.

     “If you had heard that creature cackle at our helplessness you’d know it was madness!”

     Brenda rose and went to Daphne, putting her arm around her. Peugeot watched them intently. He turned again to Sapp.

     “And where was it that they were held?”

     “The basement of a hotel not four streets from here, in some kind of workroom next to the boilers. And they had to be either very clever or quite mad, because the room would have been crawling with day shift workers not half an hour after the young ladies made their escape.”

     “This place is being examined for traces of the abductors?”

     “Inspector McAuliffe and some of our laboratory men are there now.”

     Peugeot nodded and lapsed into thought for some moments. He turned to Julia.

     “You have told us very clearly how you were overpowered in the powder room here, Mademoiselle Julia. Do you have any idea how this gang knew that you would be there at that time? Were you followed?”

     Julia’s expression showed that she had forgotten to relate another important detail.

     “We were not in the powder room by accident or happenstance, M. Peugeot,” she said. “We had been summoned there, supposedly to meet someone.”

     Peugeot and Sapp both became very attentive again. Sergeant Wilson turned his notebook to a new page and readied his pencil.

     “Why, yes,” agreed Daphne. “I don’t see how we didn’t mention it before, but a waiter came to us with a message that an old friend who was leaving soon wished to see us briefly and would wait in the powder room.”

     “Would you be able to identify this waiter if you saw him again?” asked Sapp.

     Julia had turned to watch two waiters rolling a teacart into the room. She looked back with an astonished expression.

     “He’s right there, Chief Inspector,” she said, pointing to the shorter of the two men.

     The waiter she had indicated, a short, dark-haired young man of medium build, looked up from his task of pouring tea to find all eyes in the room, including those of several policemen, fastened upon him. A short scene of some confusion followed, in which the waiter, who seemed genuinely confused about what was occurring, was by turns informed of the events of the preceding night, vehemently declared his innocence of any wrongdoing, and protested about attempts to frame him. Peugeot stepped in front of Sapp to forestall any attempt to bully the man, and the Belgian’s soothing manner asserted itself as he took over the questioning.

     “Please be seated, monsieur,” he said affably, beckoning the man to a chair. “We do not wish to derange you in any way. It is only that a serious crime was committed last night and we need your assistance in our inquiries. Perhaps your associate can resume the serving of the tea so that we may continue our discussion in a more calming atmosphere.”

     The man looked suspiciously at Sapp and Sergeant Wilson and somewhat doubtfully at Peugeot, but finally took a seat. Melinda Riddle, Margaret Shaw, and one of the uniformed policemen assisted the remaining waiter in the dispensing of tea, and we waited eagerly for Peugeot to begin.

     “There,” he said when all, save himself, had been served. “That is much more aimable. Now to begin. Your name is…?”

     “John Hamilton, sir.” The man’s tone was polite, but he continued to glance suspiciously about at the policemen.

     “And you are employed by the Frankland Hotel as a waiter?”

     “Yes, sir. Four years now.”

     “And you generally work what hours?”

     “Breakfast and luncheon, sir, seven ‘til half past three. Been on this shift for more than a year now.”

     “And yet you were working last night also?”

     “Yes, sir. Private party, reception for some theatre folk, wasn’t it? The hotel needed some people to serve an’ I needed a bit of extra cash.”

     “You did not mind the late hours?”

     “Oh no, sir. Only champagne and hors d’oeuvres to serve, sir. Not a tough job.”

     “I see. And you were not aware that two young ladies were abducted from the hotel at about eleven o’clock last night?”

     He shrugged.

     “I knew that somethin’ had happened, sir, but that was out in the foyer. Quite a few people were starting to leave by then, and I wasn’t needed to serve any longer. I was pickin’ up the used glasses and takin’ them back to be washed up. Something happened outside and there was talk of the police being called. We all knew that the party was over then, so we cleaned up what we could and I asked to leave. I don’t much like bein’ around the police, no offence meant, guv.”

     He said the last few words to Sapp, who replied rather stiffly.

     “None taken.”

     Peugeot nodded. He continued in his most engaging manner.

     “These are the two young ladies who were abducted,” he went on, indicating Julia and Daphne with a gesture. “They were taken from the powder room after being summoned there by a message. They say that you are the one who delivered the message to them.”

     John Hamilton’s jaw dropped so far that I thought that it might come unhinged. He turned to look more closely at Julia and Daphne and turned very pale. Surprise and horror wrestled for dominance over his features.

     “It was you!” he exclaimed softly. “I didn’t recognize you at first. Sorry, but you both look like you’ve had a bad time of it.”

     “They have had a most distressing night,” Peugeot said calmly. “But we must know who was responsible for that message if we have any hopes of clearing up the mystery.”

     Hamilton looked confidently at Peugeot.

     “No trouble there, sir, though I don’t know her name. Not easy to forget one like her. Great mound of red hair, red dress, and a white fur cape. Some grande dame of the theatre, I think.”

     Brenda and I exchanged a glance. It was a perfect description of Drusilla Gordon.

     “Come in, Mr. Peugeot,” said Inspector McAuliffe. “We’ve been expecting you. I thought you’d probably want a wee look at the scene of the crime, and in a case like this I welcome your help.”

     We had left Sapp and the rest of our party at the Frankland for that very purpose, Sapp being occupied by further questioning of the waiter Hamilton and the taking of the statements of Julia and Daphne. It was a walk of less than a quarter mile or so, and the fresh, bracing air was like a tonic for me after the largely sleepless night. Peugeot had said nothing about the case during our stroll, but the abstracted gaze of his green eyes told me that his ‘fine grey matter’ was quite active. A constable guarding the door through which Julia and Daphne had escaped had directed us to a basement room of the Millbury Hotel, another establishment in close to the theatres.

     “You are too aimable, Inspector,” said Peugeot. “The keen eyes of you and your men have probably seen all there is to see, but there may be something here that will aid the grey matter of Peugeot.”

     The inspector steeped back from the door to admit us. Another constable outside the door was keeping back members of the hotel staff who were apparently put out that the room was temporarily unavailable to them. We stepped into a long, narrow room, ill lit from the ceiling and one very grimy and streaked window. There were two or three workbenches along the left-hand side of the room and one against the wall facing us. To the side of this bench were a couple of upright beams from floor to ceiling. An old, bare mattress lay spread near the bench, and just in front of one of the beams was a low stool with a rectangular seat. Piles and pieces of cut ropes lay on the floor around it, as well as two white handkerchiefs, one sodden and rolled into a ball, the other folded into a long band. A few pieces of sticking-plaster and one large piece of green glass lay there as well.

     Inspector MaAuliffe pointed to the beam.

     “That’s where Miss Julia was bound,” he said. “Miss Daphne was tied face down on the mattress over there. The broken bottle was thrown against the other wall.”

     He gestured to the bare wall to our right. Two police evidence men were collecting the pieces of green glass, and a number of lengths of rope, cloth, and plaster lay nearby.

     Peugeot looked about the room with great attention. A great noise began in the room to our right, obviously the starting up of the building’s heating system. The room was warm, despite the November chill. McAuliffe had already removed his overcoat and I did the same. Peugeot, who loved warmth as much as any cat who dozes on a sunny windowsill, seemed to notice nothing. He strolled about the room looking for all the world like a prospective tenant looking at a flat. Finally we ended up next to Inspector McAuliffe.

     “What results have you so far, Inspector?” he asked deferentially.

     The Scotsman drew in a breath and made a rueful expression.

     “We’re taking the pieces of the bottle to the laboratory for fingerprint examination, even though there appear to be none and the ladies said that the couple were both wearing gloves. The knots in the ropes used to secure them suggest nothing. Good old-fashioned reef knots known to just about everyone. The sticking-plaster could have come from any chemist’s shop and the handkerchiefs are an inexpensive men’s type that could be bought about anywhere. There is one interesting find though.”

     He led us back to the door and pointed. In the wooden wall on one side were two holes just under five and a half feet from the floor. Peugeot looked at them with great interest.

     “These have been made quite recently, I see,” he said, pointing his stick to some wood shavings on the floor below them.

     McAuliffe nodded.

     “See what you think of them, gentlemen,” he invited.

     We went outside where I stooped to look through them. They were just a bit close together for my eyes but they provided a clear field of the room beyond. Peugeot took his turn, the holes being at an almost ideal height for him.

     “C’est tres curieux aussi,” he said softly. He looked up at me. “Why two holes do you think?”

     “Obviously to give the kidnappers a means of checking on their victims,” I said. “They’re a bit close together for me to use both eyes. Maybe they were meant to be for two people to look at the same time.”

     “Let us try, mon ami.”

     But try as we might we could find no way to make the holes usable much less comfortable in that fashion. We would have had to stand cheek by jowl with me awkwardly bent over for this to work even briefly.

     “I suppose they might have used them like that,” I said doubtfully as we concluded our experiment. “If they were for the two people described, the couple might have enjoyed pressing their faces together at their moment of revenge. But I can’t see why the man’s wasn’t drilled a good bit higher. And what would be the point of looking at the same time? Why not look in turn? And why would they need two people to look? One person looking in one hole would do as well.”

     “Précisement,” said Peugeot with a nod. “It is a very strange arrangement.”

     We rejoined Inspector McAuliffe inside the room. There was a faint smile on his face.

     “Rather odd, isn’t it?” he said.

     “One of several odd things in this case so far,” Peugeot replied. “For instance, Inspector, have you considered strangeness of the bottle throwing?”

     I looked at where the bottle lay then scanned the rest of the room.

     “It was a lucky break for the girls that the woman threw it that way,” I remarked. “If she had thrown it against the other wall it might have broken either on or under one of those workbenches, and the pieces would have been damned difficult to get to and use.”

     Both of them were looking at me narrowly. Inspector McAuliffe took his gloves from the pocket of his overcoat and stepped to within a few strides of the post where Julia had been bound.

     “Now it’s not difficult for me to throw something against that wall in the same area struck by the champagne bottle.”

     With a very small turn to his right, the inspector took the gloves with his left hand and, with an easy motion, threw them against the wall. The two men collecting the fragments of the bottle looked up as the gloves fell near them.

     “Now you try it, Major Bosworth,” invited the inspector. “From this spot, if you please.”

     When I took the same position I found that I had to make an awkward turn of more than ninety degrees to be able to throw to the same spot. McAuliffe retrieved the gloves and handed mine to me. He said:

     “If you’re right-handed and you’re going to throw something overhand, as the ladies reported the woman did, it’s much easier to turn to the left than to the right. Try that.”

     When I turned to the left and threw, the motion was much easier to do. My gloves hit the wall above one of the workbenches and fell onto its surface.

     “Well,” I said, unconvinced as to any great meaning in this theory, “a decision such as which way to turn can be randomly done. I can’t attach much significance to it.”

     Peugeot nodded.

     “Of course, you are right there. In and of itself, this may mean nothing. But we must keep it in mind as we progress. Consider, my friend, the matter of the kidnappers last visit to their victims. We find a number of oddities there.”

     McAuliffe was nodding.

     “Quite so, Mr. Peugeot. And yet, many times things said or remembered in situations like this can be later taken to be more significant than they were intended.”

     I was on the point of asking what significance they were talking about when we were interrupted by the arrival of Chief Inspector Sapp and Brenda. My wife reported than Julia and Daphne were resting comfortably at the hotel under the care of Melinda, Maggie, and Dr. Carruthers, and were being closely guarded by the police.

     “You may have forgotten, darling,” she continued, “but I have an appointment to with Jessup and Aubrey this morning. I rang them up this morning fully intending to postpone it, but Philip mentioned that they’re meeting with someone else this morning. I thought that you and M. Peugeot and Chief Inspector Sapp might find that other person of some interest.”

     “And who would that be?” I inquired.

     “Drusilla Gordon.”

     Peugeot’s eyes began to gleam with green light.

     “I think that we should talk with Mademoiselle Gordon,” he said.