Miss Silver coughed.

“Dear me-were there no fingerprints on the figure?”

Lamb shook his head.

“Not a trace. Clean as a whistle. Looks as if gloves had been worn, but unless they were rubber gloves that soaping and scrubbing would come a bit difficult, wouldn’t it?”

“Rubber gloves would mean premeditation,” said Miss Silver briskly. “And premeditation in connection with the use of this statuette as a weapon would mean that the murderer was familiar with the room and with this particular ornament. I suppose a man might have held it under the tap and washed it whilst wearing, let us say, heavy motoring gloves, but I do not believe that any woman wearing an ordinary pair of gloves would have done so. I am inclined to believe that no gloves were used. The washing of the statuette seems to me to be one of those instinctive and unpremeditated actions-something done whilst under the influence of shock-which puzzle the investigator just because they are in fact meaningless, except as an index of character. I put forward the suggestion with diffidence, Inspector, but I imagine that no fingerprints would be left if the statuette and the hand holding it were wet at the time of contact.”

Both men looked up sharply. Lamb struck his knee and exclaimed,

“By gum-yes! You’re right!”

Miss Silver rose to her feet and walked over to the couch.

“The heat of the room would quickly dry any surface damp, but I should expect some slight spreading of the stain. It should, I think, be paler at the edges if the statuette had been wet enough not to take fingerprints. Yes-look here, Inspector-the stain has definitely been spread. Here-and here. Look how pale it is at the edges.”

The three of them stood there looking at the spoiled blue and grey brocade. Lamb said,

“Yes, you’re right-that’s the way it was. Though why on earth it was done at all beats me. If it was to puzzle us about the weapon, the figure should have been put back on the mantelpiece. If it was to remove fingerprints, it might just as well have been left in the bathroom. It don’t make sense.”

CHAPTER 33

He had got as far as that, when the door was opened and Mrs. Jackson appeared on the threshold. She held a typewritten list in one hand and a solitaire diamond ring in the other. She crossed the room in an agitated manner, laid both these things in front of the Inspector, and said in a hurrying voice,

“This isn’t my sister’s ring.”

Everybody looked at her and then at the ring. Lamb said,

“What do you mean?”

She swallowed quickly and repeated what she had said before.

“This isn’t my sister’s ring.”

Lamb swung his chair round to face her.

“Just a minute, Mrs. Jackson. When you say this isn’t your sister’s ring, do you mean that it isn’t on the list of her jewellery, or that you hadn’t seen it before, or what?”

Ella Jackson made an effort. She was a controlled young woman, but the discovery which she had just made, coming on the top of everything else, had knocked her off her balance. She regained it now.

“No, I don’t mean that, Inspector. Look at the list and you will see ‘Solitaire diamond ring’ half way down the page. This is a solitaire diamond ring, but it isn’t the one on the list. It isn’t my sister’s ring. The stone isn’t a diamond-it’s paste.”

There was a queer electric thrill in the room. Each of the four people present was aware of it. Each felt a heightening of interest, a sense of anticipation. One of them had also a faint sick instant of recoil.

Lamb, frowning, picked up the ring.

“This is the ring Miss Roland had been wearing. It’s one of the three that were found in the bathroom by the side of the wash-basin.”

Ella Jackson’s colour had risen. She was quite calm now.

“It isn’t Carrie’s ring.”

Lamb looked up at her.

“She might have had the stone changed herself, Mrs. Jackson.”

“She wouldn’t-not without telling me. My husband was going to arrange the insurance. She knows how careful he is- he’d never have done it without checking up on the things. Besides she’d no reason-she wasn’t short of money.”

He turned the ring this way and that. The rainbow colours flashed.

“Looks all right to me. What makes you think it’s paste?”

Ella Jackson had a very decided look as she said,

“I don’t have to think about it-I know it’s paste. I was brought up in the trade. I knew it wasn’t Carrie’s ring the minute I took it in my hand. You can show it to anyone in London and they’ll say the same as I do-it’s paste.”

“She might have had the stone changed-you can’t be sure she didn’t.”

“Well then, I can,” said Mrs. Jackson, “because it’s not just the stone-it’s the ring. It isn’t Carrie’s ring. She got hers from the boy she was married to, Jack Armitage, and he told her it was his mother’s, and it had her initials in it. Carrie was a bit put out about that-said she didn’t want to go wearing a ring with another woman’s initials.”

Lamb turned the ring to the light. There was no mark at all on the inner surface of the gold.

“Perhaps she had the initials taken out.”

Ella shook her head.

“Well then, she didn’t, for when she told me about the trick she was playing on Major Armitage she told me she showed him the ring, and what he looked like when he saw it. Seems he remembered it, though he didn’t remember her. She said he turned it over at once to see if the initials were there, and looked as vexed as vexed to think she had his mother’s ring.”

Miss Silver said, “Dear me!” She turned to the Inspector with a deprecatory cough.

“Major Armitage was expected when I left Mrs. Underwood’s flat. He will, I am sure, have arrived by now. Do you think-”

Lamb nodded, and Frank Abbott got up and went out.

“It isn’t Carrie’s ring,” said Ella Jackson. “Major Armitage will tell you the same as I do. But if it’s not Carrie’s-and it isn’t- well, I’ve got an idea that I know whose it may be. It was only last night when she was telling me about showing it to Major Armitage she said, ‘Funny there should be two rings like this in Vandeleur House. Dead spit and image of each other too. I saw her look at mine the other day going down in the lift. She might have thought I’d been pinching hers if she hadn’t had it on. She’s that sort.’”

“Miss Roland said that?”

“Yes, she did.”

“Who was she talking about-who had the other ring?”

“Miss Garside in No. 4. Mind you, I’m not saying anything against her.”

Miss Silver was watching the Inspector’s face. She saw his eyes go to the papers on his right. He half put out a hand and drew it back again. Then he said in a slow, meditative way,

“Miss Garside… Did your sister know her?”

“No, she didn’t. Very stiff and stand-offish, Carrie said. Not so much as a good-morning if you met her in the lift.”

“Not a chance that the rings might have got mixed up-when they were washing their hands-anything like that?”

“Not an earthly.”

Lamb said, “H’m!”

There was a brief silence, and then Giles Armitage came in, followed by Sergeant Abbott. He came right up to the table and said,

“What is it, Inspector? I’m told you want to see me.”

Lamb said, “H’m!” again. Then he held out the ring.

“I want to know whether you can identify this ring.”

Giles frowned and said,

“Yes-it was my mother’s. My brother gave it to Carola.”

“When did you see it last?”

His frown deepened.

“She was wearing it yesterday.”

“She showed it to you?”

“Yes.”

“Did you examine it?”

“Yes.”

“Was there any mark by which you could be certain of identifying it?”

“My mother’s initials were in it-M. B. for Mary Ballantyne. It was her engagement ring.”

“You actually saw those initials yesterday when you handled the ring?”