Ben moved to the table, looking more serious than he usually did.
"In accordance with instructions from the Major, I went to The Beeches in the early hours of this morning to see if all was safe and in order. It was empty, for Mr. Black 'as another 'ome near the newspaper office. I leant against the back door and it burst open. I 'ad noticed when I was there before that the fastening was weak. I looked round and at the back of a drawer I found a pair of gloves. They was Mr. Black's gloves as thoughtful-like 'e 'ad marked 'em inside with 'is initials. I also noticed two of the fingers 'ad red smudges on 'em. It weren't paint, it looked like lipstick to me. We know criminals like to use gloves to prevent finger-marks and it would be curious if this was the same lipstick as killed the poor lady. I brought 'em along, thinkin' the Chief Inspector would like to 'ave 'em tested."
As he spoke he took a small parcel from his pocket and displayed a pair of chamois-leather gloves. He indicated the marks and everyone bent forward to look at them. Every one, that is, except the owner of the gloves.
He saw his chance and made a sudden dash for the door. He succeeded in reaching it and in turning the key which was on the outside, before anyone could stop him. With his car in the garden he might make a bolt for it. But he reckoned without Allenby. The sergeant rushed for the window, threw it open and leapt out just in time to tackle the man escaping from the front door. There was a brief struggle but Victor Gore-Black was no match for his trained attacker.
"Take him to the station," Grimsby shouted from the window. "Holmes shall help you. I will come along and charge him there."
Holmes was the constable who had been taking down all the evidence. He was no longer wanted for that job. He jumped through the window and assisted in fixing the hand cuffs.
There was silence in the room. Grimsby felt it was up to him to say something, but for some moments he was at a loss for words His tour de force had ended in a way very different from what he had expected. He would have liked to criticise or to blame, but who and how?
"I appreciate," he said slowly, "the help Major Bennion has afforded me in this matter. All the evidence you have given has been taken down and will be written out for you each to sign, so far as it bears on the case. You will be required to repeat it on oath when the court re-assembles. I must now return to the station." With that he strode from the room.
Then Jasper spoke. "It is my opinion," he said, "if we are strong enough, we ought to chair Major Bennion home."
Roger laughed. "No, since Grimsby has gone, if you want to chair anyone, let it be Ben Orgles. He deserves it. I will carry Joy Austin; she deserves it, too."
"I could do that," Jasper said.
They all laughed. The tension was over. Everyone, including Gaston Bidaut, had something to say. Pearl went to Joy and shook her hand.
"Thank you very much," she said. "It was a wonderful help to all of us."
"I have much to be thankful for too," Joy replied.
Then Roger drew Pearl aside. "Happy now?" he asked. "Indeed I am," she said, her eyes sparkling with the old light. "I have been so frightened, but now Peter and I can do just what we planned."
"What is that?"
"Marry quickly, go round the world for six months and decide where he shall work when we get back."
"Then I ought to kiss the bride-to-be?"
"A hundred times if you like!"
"No," he smiled. "Never over-pay anyone. And Peter is already impatient."
THREE days later Ruth and Roger sat once again at breakfast. Little Penny on a large cushion was showing signs of being an expert crawler; perhaps later on to become a player of hockey or a climber of mountains. Life and meal times soon resume their normal routine.
"Well, my dear," Roger said, as he tapped his egg, "we are back to the role of Darby and Joan. I am afraid you will find it dull."
"It is the sort of dullness I like, with you and Penny," Ruth replied. "But having had a little finger in it, I can understand how you itch to see a thing through to the end, with the innocent vindicated and the villain exposed."
"We also have the satisfaction of knowing we have helped to arrange a happy marriage and of stopping one that could only have ended in disaster."
"There is a moral in it," Ruth said. "I wish it could be shouted from the housetops."
"What is the moral?"
"The danger of loose living. Many women think their life is their own and they can do what they like with it. They are wrong. They may pass on that life to others. If they have a child, they may in some mysterious way sow in it the seeds of the evil they have done. The thought of that might keep them straight."
"You are thinking of poor Garnet," Roger said. "He was rather an exceptional case. Idealism, unless blended with a practical view of life, must cause distress."
"It is not only Garnet. Pearl had a narrow escape, and what of Emerald?"
"What of her?" Roger returned. "I have not seen her since our big show-down."
"I had a talk with her. She tells me she has burnt every page of the book she and Victor wrote together. At present she is suffering from an anti-man complex. If she writes again, it will be a very modern story, exposing him as the monster he is."
"That will get it out of her system. Then she will marry; she is made that way."
For a while they ate in silence. Ruth said: "I suppose Inspector Grimsby will get the credit for all you did?"
"He will certainly do his best in that direction. He had the politeness to admit that I had helped. When he said it, Ben winked at me in a way that was definitely subversive of discipline. But I do not mind. Really I was rather lucky."
"In what way?" asked Ruth. "That the lipstick caused the death was entirely your idea."
"That is true. It was called Caress, a tempting name, Sent by Victor Gore-Black, it was indeed a Judas kiss."
"And Grimsby will get the credit? I do not like him."
"He is not the best type of policeman, but he has his living to make. It was also my idea to send Ben to investigate the life of Gore-Black and very well he did it. But it was luck, or if you prefer it, Providence that took him to the bungalow in time to save Joy Austin's life. It was luck that the rascal Teague got his glimpse of the villain when he was in Jasper's studio. I did not know that till he blurted it out, though the evidence that he was there was fairly strong. It was luck that I sent Ben back again to the bungalow, "
"Or Providence, or your own good sense," his wife amended.
"Call it what you will," Roger laughed. "It was Ben's good sense that led him to find those gloves, though I had suggested something of the sort. The stain on them, by the way, was made by lipstick and cyanide. That will provide the crowning proof."
"I cannot think why he kept them," Ruth said.
"Providence, my dear. His plans were carefully made. He never thought we should discover the lipstick trick. That perhaps made him over-confident. He also did not imagine we should know about the bungalow. We have to thank Ben and Bob Inglis for that."
"You give everyone the credit but yourself," his wife remarked.
"I only pulled a few strings to set things in motion. Shakespeare might have said of the wicked there is a Divinity that foils their ends conceive them how they may. Had Joy gone to London as Victor intended, we might never have discovered the truth. You like her?"
"Very much. It puzzles me how she came to fall for that repulsive man."
"As Emerald and apparently some others did. There is a virile, aggressive, masculine type that has a peculiar appeal for some young women. Have you any further plans for our Joy?"
"That may not be necessary," Ruth said.
"How do you mean?"
"I think Jasper is taking a very lively interest in her. He has been in twice every day since he first saw her. He can not take his eyes off her. He has asked her for a motor run this morning."
"I hope his intentions are honourable."
"I am sure they are," Ruth declared. "He has seen too much of the other sort of thing. He told me so. And Joy has learned her lesson too."
"She will make a sweet, domesticated little wife," Roger said. "Jasper has much to thank her for. No doubt he will be an average good husband for a girl who understands him. She may even cure him of painting abstractions. I too have an idea."
"What is that?"
"No abstraction, a very practical one. If your notion comes true, we will stand them the wedding, and who do you think shall give away the bride?"
"You?" Ruth suggested.
"Better than that. Uncle Ben!"