Godfrey nodded and quickly unlocked the cupboard door. Bannister pulled out the case and stood it upright on the table. As has been previously stated, it resembled hundreds of others, which very obvious fact made Anthony shake his head with a feeling of misgiving. But not so—Daphne Carruthers. That lady left the Crown Prince’s side and excitedly pulled the two tie-on labels down to the level of her vision. Her eyes flashed with her excitement. “They’re my labels,” she cried, “in my handwriting.” She fished impetuously in her vanity-bag and produced a key. It fitted. The catches clicked and the case swung open as she pulled at it. “And they’re my clothes inside,” she cried in increased amazement. “What on earth is the meaning of this? She’s taken all my things as well as my name.” Her eyes were wide-opened and wondering, as she stood there waiting for one of them to answer. Nobody obliged her—but Mr. Bathurst noticed that the Crown Prince was trembling with excitement; the ash of his cigarette was shaken to the floor.
CHAPTER VIII.
Daphne Draws Up the Blinds
He gazed at her—amazed and incredulous—fascinated at the sudden and unexpected turn that she had given to the march of events. But his emotion at the news was such that he sought for and sank weakly into a convenient chair. Anthony then turned his attention to Bannister and to Sergeant Godfrey. Bannister’s eyes were gleaming with a strange mixture of curiosity and satisfaction. Here was a witness at last upon whose evidence he felt that he could thoroughly rely.
“This is most extraordinarily interesting, Miss Carruthers. Please explain how your luggage comes to be in the dead girl’s possession and in Room 66 at the ‘Lauderdale’ Hotel?”
Daphne turned upon her questioner two round eyes of beautiful astonishment. “I should very much like to be in a position to do so,” she exclaimed. “I am just as eager to know as you yourself are. Those two questions are just the two that I can’t answer,” she supplemented.
“When was this suit-case last in your possession?” demanded Bannister.
“On Wednesday evening,” she replied, “when I was on the point of leaving the ‘Cassandra.’ I left the hotel about twenty minutes to ten in order to catch the ten-three from the station. But as I had a hand-bag and two novels to carry, I left my suit-case to be forwarded to my home address. I labelled it—just as you see it now—and left appropriate instructions at the ‘Cassandra.’ It’s my usual practice if I’m travelling alone—I just hate to be lumbered up with heaps of things to carry.”
“Where did you last actually see it?” queried Bannister with a soupçon of impatience.
Daphne puckered her brows. “One of the hotel porters took it downstairs for me—I tipped him—I didn’t see it again after he’d taken it from my room.”
“Pardon me a moment, Inspector,” intervened Anthony. “I should like to ask Miss Carruthers a question. Are the labels as you see them now tied in exactly the same manner and in exactly the same positions as you yourself tied and placed them?”