“That’s another thing I wanted to tell you. The clippings have been removed.”
“Removed? By whom?”
“That’s a question. They were removed some time between the moment we looked at them and the moment the coroner took charge.”
Godfrey stared at him with startled eyes.
“You remember,” Simmonds continued, “that after we looked at the pocket-book, I put it back in Thompson’s pocket.”
“Yes—I saw you do that.”
“We then went into the bedroom, and had a look around, leaving the body alone”
“With Miss Croydon,” said Godfrey, completing the sentence.
“Precisely. Goldberg arrived a minute or two later. Then he and I searched the body again. When he opened the pocket-book there was nothing in it except the rent receipt.”
Godfrey sat down again in his chair. The inference was obvious, irresistible. The clippings had been removed by Miss Croydon—they were the papers she had risked so much to get possession of. Simmonds and he had had the secret under their hands and had missed it! It was not a pleasant reflection.
His thoughts flew back to Miss Croydon, and he found himself again admiring her. To have taken the clippings demanded a degree of bravery, of self-control, amounting almost to callousness. It seemed incredible that she should have dared approach the body, open the coat…
Then he remembered her half-fainting attitude when
