“How do you expect the charwoman to know that? But I think it probably is, as I find from Fortnum & Mason’s that a Bradenham ham was delivered to Mrs. Forrest’s address about a fortnight ago.”
“That sounds conclusive. I take it you think Bertha Gotobed was inveigled there for some undesirable purpose by Mrs. Forrest, and had supper with her—”
“No; I should think there was a man.”
“Yes, of course. Mrs. F. brings the parties together and leaves them to it. The poor girl is made thoroughly drunk—and then something untoward happens.”
“Yes—shock, perhaps, or a shot of dope.”
“And they bustle her off and get rid of her. It’s quite possible. The post-mortem may tell us something about it. Yes, Bunter, what is it?”
“The telephone, my lord, for Mr. Parker.”
“Excuse me,” said Parker, “I asked the people at the flower-shop to ring me up here, if Mrs. Forrest came in. If she’s there, would you like to come round with me?”
“Very much.”
Parker returned from the telephone with an air of subdued triumph.