Opening her handbag, she tugged at a notebook of rather tiresome size, and finally got it out.
'I made various notes each time about things. I took some of the china menus along, for one thing.'
'Oh. And what did that produce?'
'Well, it set up a large amount of gastronomic remarks. This is the first one. Somebody or other whose name I've now forgotten.'
'You must try and remember names better.'
'Well, it's not names that I write down so much as the things they say to me and tell me. And they were very thrilled at that china menu because it seemed it was one particular dinner that everyone had enjoyed very much and they had had a wonderful meal - they hadn't had anything like it before, and apparently they had lobster salad for the first time. They'd heard of it being served after the joint in the richest and most fashionable houses, but it hadn't come their way.'
'Oh,' said Tommy, 'that wasn't very helpful.'
'Well, yes it was, in a way, because they said they'd always remember that evening. So I said why would they always remember that evening and they said it was because of the census.'
'What - a census?'
'Yes. You know what a census is, surely, Tommy? Why, we had one only last year, or was it the year before last? You know - having to say, or making everyone sign or enter particulars. Everyone who slept under your roof on a certain night. You know the sort of thing. On the night of November 15th who did you have sleeping under your roof? And you have to put it down, or they have to sign their names. I forget which. Anyway, they were having a census that day and so everyone had to say who was under their roof, and of course a lot of people were at the party and they talked about it. They said it was very unfair and a very stupid thing to have and that anyway they thought it was really a most disgraceful thing to go on having nowadays, because you had to say if you had children and if you were married, or if you were not married but did have children, and things like that. You had to put down a lot of very difficult particulars and you didn't think it was nice. Not nowadays. So they were very upset about it. I mean, they were upset, not about the old census because nobody minded then. It was just a thing that happened.'
'The census might come in useful if you've got the exact date of it,' said Tommy.
'Do you mean you could check up about the census?'
'Oh yes. If one knows the right people I think one could check up fairly easily.'
'And they remembered Mary Jordan being talked about. Everyone said what a nice girl she had seemed and how fond everyone was of her. And they would never have believed - you know how people say things. Then they said, Well, she was half German so perhaps people ought to have been more careful in engaging her.'
Tuppence put down her empty coffee cup and settled back in her chair.
'Anything hopeful?' said Tommy.
'No, not really,' said Tuppence, 'but it might be. Anyway, the old people talked about it and knew about it. Most of them had heard it from their elderly relations or something. Stories of where they had put things or found things. There was some story about a will that was hidden in a Chinese vase. Something about Oxford and Cambridge, though I don't see how anyone would know about things being hidden in Oxford or Cambridge. It seems very unlikely.'
'Perhaps someone had a nephew undergraduate,' said Tommy, 'who took something back with him to Oxford or Cambridge.'
'Possible, I suppose, but not likely.'
'Did anyone actually talk about Mary Jordan?'
'Only in the way of hearsay - not of actually knowing definitely about her being a German spy, only from their grandmothers or great-aunts or sisters or mothers' cousins or Uncle John's naval friend who knew all about it.'
'Did they talk about how Mary died?'
'They connected her death with the foxglove and spinach episode. Everyone recovered, they said, except her.'
'Interesting,' said Tommy. 'Same story different setting.'
'Too many ideas perhaps,' said Tuppence. 'Someone called Bessie said, "Well. It was only my grandmother who talked about that and of course it had all been years before her time and I expect she got some of the details wrong. She usually did, I believe." You know, Tommy, with everyone talking at once it's all muddled up. There was all the talk about spies and poison on picnics and everything. I couldn't get any exact dates because of course nobody ever knows the exact date of anything your grandmother tells you. If she says, "I was only sixteen at the time and I was terribly thrilled," you probably don't know now how old your grandmother really was. She'd probably say she was ninety now because people like to say they're older than their age when they get to eighty, or if, of course, she's only about seventy, she says she's only fifty-two.'
'Mary Jordan,' said Tommy thoughtfully, as he quoted the words, 'did not die naturally. He had his suspicions. Wonder if he ever talked to a policeman about them.'
'You mean Alexander?'
'Yes - And perhaps because of that he talked too much. He had to die.'
'A lot depends on Alexander, doesn't it?'
'We do know when Alexander died, because of his grave here. But Mary Jordan - we still don't know when or why.'
'We'll find out in the end,' said Tommy. 'You make a few lists of names you've got and dates and things. You'll be surprised. Surprised what one can check up through an odd word or two here and there.'
'You seem to have a lot of useful friends,' said Tuppence enviously.
'So do you,' said Tommy.
'Well, I don't really,' said Tuppence.
'Yes, you do, you set people in motion,' said Tommy. 'You go and see one old lady with a birthday book. The next thing I know you've been all through masses of people in an old pensioners' home or something, and you know all about things that happened at the time of their great-aunts, great-grandmothers and Uncle Johns and godfathers, and perhaps an old Admiral at sea who told tales about espionage and all that. Once we can figure a few dates down and get on with a few enquiries, we might - who knows? - get something.'
'I wonder who the undergraduates were who were mentioned - Oxford and Cambridge, the ones who were said to have hidden something.'
'They don't sound very like espionage,' said Tommy.
'No, they don't really,' said Tuppence.
'And doctors and old clergymen,' said Tommy. 'One could, I expect, check up on them, but I don't see it would lead one anywhere. It's all too far away. We're not near enough. We don't know - Has anybody tried anything more funny on you, Tuppence?'
'Do you mean has anyone attempted my life in the last two days? No, they haven't. Nobody's invited me to go on a picnic, the brakes of the car are all right, there's a jar of weedkiller in the potting shed but it doesn't even seem to be opened yet.'
'Isaac keeps it there to be handy in case you come out with some sandwiches one day.'
'Oh, poor Isaac,' said Tuppence. 'You are not to say things against Isaac. He is becoming one of my best friends. Now I wonder - that reminds me -'
'What does that remind you of?'
'I can't remember,' said Tuppence, blinking her eyes. 'It reminded me of something when you said that about Isaac.'
'Oh dear,' said Tommy and sighed.
'One old lady,' said Tuppence, 'was said to have always put her things in her mittens every night. Earrings, I think it was. That's the one who thought everyone was poisoning her. And somebody else remembered someone who put things in a missionary box or something. You know, the china thing for the waifs and strays, there was a label stuck on to it. But it wasn't for the waifs and strays at all, apparently. She used to put five pound notes in it so that she'd always have a nest egg, and when it got too full she used to take it away and buy another box and break the first one.'
'And spend the five pounds, I suppose,' said Tommy.
'I suppose that was the idea. My cousin Emlyn used to say,' said Tuppence, obviously quoting, 'nobody'd rob the waifs and strays or missionaries, would they? If anyone smashed a box like that somebody'd notice, woul
dn't they?'
'You haven't found any books of rather dull-looking sermons, have you, in your book search in those rooms upstairs?'
'No. Why?' asked Tuppence.
'Well, I just thought that'd be a very good place to hide things in. You know, something really boring written about theology. An old crabbed book with the inside scooped out.'
'Hasn't been anything like that,' said Tuppence. 'I should have noticed it if there was.'
'Would you have read it?'
'Oh, of course I wouldn't,' said Tuppence.
'There you are then,' said Tommy. 'You wouldn't have read it, you'd have just thrown it away, I expect.'
'The Crown of Success. That's one book I remember,' said Tuppence. 'There were two copies of that. Well, let's hope that success will crown our efforts.'
'It seems to me very unlikely. Who killed Mary Jordan? That's the book we'll have to write one day, I suppose?'
'If we ever find out,' said Tuppence gloomily.
Chapter 4
POSSIBILITY OF SURGERY ON MATHILDE