“Nothing,” Sir Clinton admitted.
He handed the holder to Flamborough, who stowed it away safely.
“We've still to overhaul the body,” the Chief Constable suggested. “You'd better do that, Inspector.”
“Not much help in these modern dresses,” said Flamborough, eyeing the girl's evening frock with a disparaging glance. “But she ought to have a bag with her, surely. . . . Here it is!”
He plunged his hand between the body and the chair and withdrew a little bag, which he proceeded to open.
“The usual powder-box,” he began, enumerating the articles as they came to hand, “Small mirror, silver-mounted, no initials on it. Small comb. Lipstick—been used once or twice. No money. No handkerchief.”
“You found Mrs. Silverdale's handkerchief in the car last night,” Sir Clinton reminded him.
“Then I suppose this must be her body, right enough, sir. Well, that seems to be all that's here.”
“What about these rings she's wearing,” the Chief Constable suggested. “See if you can get them off. There may be some inscriptions on the inside; some women go in for that kind of thing.”
Fortunately the hands of the body were relaxed, and it was possible to remove the circlets from the fingers. Flamborough rose with three rings in his possession, which he examined with care.