As he spoke he was slowly removing the brown paper covering from a small parcel he had taken from his breast pocket. Watching him curiously Steadman saw to his amazement that when the contents were finally extracted they appeared to be nothing more important than the day's issue of an illustrated paper.
Carnthwacke spread it out. Then he looked back at Mrs. Bechcombe.
“I don't want to hurt your feelings, ma'am. And it may be that some one else belonging to the house, perhaps that gentleman I saw down at the Yard”—with a gesture in Steadman's direction—“would just look at this picture.”
Steadman stepped forward. But Mrs. Bechcombe's curiosity had been aroused. She leaned across.
“I will see it myself, please.”
Carnthwacke laid it on the table before the astonished eyes of the company.
A glance showed John Steadman that the centre print was a quite recognizable portrait of Luke Bechcombe. There were also pictures of the offices in Crow's Inn, both inside and out, an obviously fancy likeness of Thompson “the absconding manager,” and of Miss Cecily Hoyle, the dead man's secretary.
Steadman half expected to find Mrs. Cyril B. Carnthwacke figuring largely, but so far as he could see there was nothing to account for that lady's excessive agitation.
She passed her handkerchief over her lips now as she sat down sideways on the chair that Tony Collyer placed for her, and he noticed that she was trembling all over and that every drop of colour seemed to have receded from her cheeks and lips. Her admirers on the variety stage would not have recognized their idol now.
Carnthwacke cleared a space on the table and spread out his paper carefully, smoothing out the creases with meticulous attention. Then he pointed his carefully manicured forefinger at the portrait of Luke Bechcombe in the middle.