“I’ll be back in three-quarters of an hour,” said Marryatt, buttoning the photograph away. “Carmichael, I hope you won’t produce any more clues while I’m away.”
When Marryatt had gone, and Carmichael had sauntered off to the billiard-room, Reeves sat on there fidgeting and discussing the possible significance of the latest find.
“It’s odd,” he said, “how one can live for years in the artificial life of a club like this and not know one’s neighbours in the least. We’re a world to ourselves, and an outside face like that conveys nothing to us; probably the name won’t either. What beats me at present about the photograph is this—how long ago would you say that photograph was taken?”
“I’m not an authority on ladies’ fashions, I’m afraid, but surely it’s pre-war.”
“Exactly. Now, Brotherhood only came here just at the end of the war, at least, he only joined the Club then; I asked the Secretary about it. And ‘Davenant’ joined even later, only a year or two ago. When a man takes a house here, one assumes that he’s only come here for the golf. But it looks as if Brotherhood, or else his phantom self, Davenant, knew the Binver world already—at least well enough to possess photographs of its belles.”
“Not necessarily,” Gordon pointed out. “She may have had no later portrait to give him than that one, even if she gave it him only a year or two ago.”
“That’s true. And yet women generally keep their portraits pretty well up-to-date. Here’s another point—from the caddie’s account, it seems that this portrait must have been loose in the pocket; but he can’t always have carried it like that. . . . Good Lord, what a fool I am! What size was the empty frame in Davenant’s cottage?”
“Oh, just that size. It’s a common size, of course, but I suppose most likely it was that portrait which ‘Davenant’ caught up in a hurry before he left his house; and crammed it into his pocket anyhow. Assuming, of course, that Carmichael’s right.”
“Yes, that makes the thing as clear as daylight, so far. I hope Marryatt makes good time. Look how slow we’ve been on the murderer’s tracks; we’ve given him two full days already.”
“By the way,” said Gordon, “I’ve just remembered—Thursday’s early closing day at Binver.”