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Updated: June 2, 2025
Allerdyke's cousin was really murdered, and if the Frenchwoman's death arose out of that, and now Lydenberg's, there's a clever combination at work. And where's the least clue to it?" Allerdyke helped himself to a fresh cigar out of a box which lay on Fullaway's table, lighted it, and smoked in silence for a minute or two. The other men, feeling instinctively that he was thinking, waited.
Marlow as Fullaway's secretary and here at his rooms and on his business; where she lives she's Miss Slade. Eh?" Chettle pricked his ears. "When did you find that out?" he asked. "Since you left me this morning?" "Found it out this afternoon," replied Allerdyke, with something of triumph.
They were often seen talking together in quiet corners and some of the old maids and eligible widows were already saying that Miss Slade was setting her cap at Mr. Rayner's evident deep purse. Ambler Appleyard went to bed that night wondering greatly about two matters first, why Miss Slade was Miss Slade in Bayswater and Mrs. Marlow at Fullaway's office; second, if Miss Slade or Mrs.
Fullaway's all right, so far as the various commercial agencies know nothing ever been heard against him, anyhow. The account of himself and his business which he gave to you is quite correct. To sum up he's a sound man quite straight on the business surface, which is, of course, all we can get at.
For in all that room always excepting the photograph of James Allerdyke there was not a single object, a scrap of paper, anything whatever, which connected the Miss Slade of the Pompadour with the Mrs. Marlow of Fullaway's or bore reference to the matter in hand. The searchers finally retired utterly baffled. "Drawn blank," murmured the chief good-humouredly. He turned to the lookers-on.
"Nothing more than you would have expected to find! Nothing?" Allerdyke bent across the table, giving his visitor a keen look. "What would you have expected to find if you'd found him as I found him?" he asked. "Come what, now?" He was watching the American narrowly, and he saw that Fullaway's excitement was passing off, was being changed into an attentive eagerness.
Orwin gave the American a sharp glance which indicated that he realized Fullaway's understanding of what he had just said. "Precisely," he answered. "There are poisons known to experts which will destroy life almost to a given minute, and of which the most skilful pathologist and expert will not be able to find a single trace.
But there was another fact which seemed to have some bearing, though it is one which I have never yet worked out perhaps some of you know something of it. It was this: Just before he went to Russia, Mr. James Allerdyke, being in town, gave me a photograph of himself which Mr. Marshall Allerdyke had recently taken. I kept that photo lying on my desk at Mr. Fullaway's for some time.
Fullaway being out, and I having nothing to do, I was cleaning up some photographic apparatus which I had there. This man Ebers came in with some clothes of Mr. Fullaway's. Seeing what I was doing, he got talking to me about photography, saying that he himself was an amateur.
"Well, I daresay there's a vast lot of folk in this city who do business across there. Um! smart little woman that, and no doubt as clever as she's smart. I'd like to know " "I say!" he whispered, with a side glance at The Times-reading old gentleman, "you remember me telling you yesterday about the lady-secretary of Fullaway's Mrs. Marlow? what a smart bit she looked to be. Eh?"
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