"Come again?"
"I'd expected a more imaginative end from you. What was your fiancé's name?"
"John Starboard."
"Starboard! That cancels out the motor accident."
"I suppose you know what you're talking about. I don't."
"It wasn't your fiance's coat you kept in that now empty suit-case, by any chance?"
"It was not."
Grant's searching hand paused. He withdrew it holding a bundle of passports: four in all. One was a British one issued to Herbert Gotobed; one was an American one in the name of Alexander Byron Black; one a Spanish one, issued to a deaf-mute, one Jose Fernandez; and the fourth an American one for William Cairns Black and his wife. But the photographs were all of the same man: Herbert Gotobed; and the wife's photograph was that of Rosa Freeson.
"A collector, your fiance. An expensive hobby, I've always understood." He put the passports into his pocket.
"You can't do that. They're not yours. I'll scream the house down. I will say you came in and attacked me. Look!" She pulled her wrap open and began to tear her nightdress.