“Here you are,” she said, pushing it over to the inspector. “Can you read it all right there, or do you want the electric light? I’ll turn it on if you like, but——”

“No, no, I can see perfectly,” Mallett lied. Mrs. Bradworthy’s parsimony was notorious, and he knew that she would never forgive him if he proved himself to be wasteful in the matter of electric current. Straining his eyes over the page, he found the item he sought.

“That is what I am enquiring about,” he said. “The padded suit and beard.”

Mrs. Bradworthy shook her head sadly, and clicked her tongue against her teeth.

“Tck, tck! The most expensive thing in the whole account! Bought, and not hired like the rest of them, you see, Mr. Mallett. It’s a bad business—it should never have gone out without payment, but there it is. It will be a lesson to us, that’s all I can say.”

“I notice that it is dated a few days later than the other items,” Mallett remarked.

“Yes, indeed. It was ordered special, after the others had gone out. I remember it particularly. In a great hurry, it was. And then to try and get out of paying for it! It really seems criminal, doesn’t it?”

“Did you take the order yourself?”

“Indeed, yes. Over the telephone—nasty new-fangled thing, and such an expense too, you wouldn’t believe.”

“But who actually gave the order?”

“Why, Lord Bernard—or I suppose it was. I didn’t take much notice, naturally. But he said Lord Bernard’s account, as clear as I’m talking to you.”

“And it was delivered—to whom?”

“It wasn’t delivered at all. It was fetched, that very evening.”

Mallett could hardly restrain his impatience.

“Who fetched it?” he asked.

Mrs. Bradworthy shook her head.

“It was late, I know,” she said. “After I’d gone home, because I remember getting it out and doing up the parcel myself, before I left. You can’t trust these girls to do anything properly if you don’t do it yourself. But as for who actually handed it over, so to speak, now you’re asking. Amelia!”

A tall, ungainly, myoptic woman of uncertain age emerged from the dim background of the shop in answer to her call.

“Amelia, dear, that padded suit of Lord Bernard’s—were you there when it was fetched?”

“No, Mrs. Bradworthy. It was very late, after I’d gone. I know that, because Tom complained to me next day he’d been kept from shutting up by waiting for the gentleman. Five minutes after closing time he came in, Tom told me.”

“Then it was Tom who handed the parcel over?” said Mallett.

“Yes, that’s right,” said Mrs. Bradworthy in a peculiar tone of mournful satisfaction. “It must have been old Tom.”

“It was Tom all right,” echoed Amelia.