the desk to shake her hand.âDo sit dowd, please. Excuse be a bobet.â He turned his back and harumphed hugely into a large white handkerchief.âAh, thatâs better.â
âSo they did call in Scotland Yard.â Daisy sat down in one of the red leather armchairs before the desk. âBut whereâs the Chief?â
âDetective Chief Inspector Fletcher is out on another job and took young Piper with him. But seeing it involves some outdoor business and Iâve got this bit of a cold, he left me to clear up some paperwork at the office.â
âI expect youâd rather have gone with them than getting stuck with desk work,â Daisy said sympathetically.
His little brown eyes twinkled at her. âIsnât that the truth! At least, it would be if it wasnât for this affair coming up. The Chelsea division detectives are all out already, and my super hadnât got an inspector to spare, so he sent me along.â
âIâm very glad heâs put you in charge.â Though bang went any chance of keeping it from Alec.
âHe thought it was a simple little case Iâd be able to clear
up tonight.â Tom Tring sighed gustily. âDonât suppose he has any idea what a regular rabbit warren the place is. Well, Miss Dalrymple, what have you got to tell me? Stop staring, Ross, and get your notebook out. Yes, this is that Miss Dalrymple.â
Ross and Daisy both blushed, Daisy wondering whether she was notorious simply as Alecâs fiancée, or as the Assistant Commissioner for Crimeâs bête noire.
âIâve been doing some research here for an article,â she said hurriedly. âThis evening at twenty to six I went to Dr. Smith Woodwardâs officeâheâs the Keeper of Geologyâto ask him about Piltdown Man.â
âExactly twedty to six? Excuse be.â Tring pulled out his hankie, turned his head, and produced another explosion.
âRoughly. You know how you look at a watch and you donât so much notice the exact time as how long you have till ⦠well, in this case till the museum closed. I saw I had about twenty minutes left and I decided it was long enough.â
Tring nodded. âAnd then?â
âWe walked round to the Piltdown skull, just around the corner in the fossil mammal gallery. Dr. Smith Woodward looked at it for a minute and decided heâd much rather talk about fossil fish. So we crossed the galleryâI didnât notice anyone there, but I wasnât really looking. There was no one in the hall leading to the reptile gallery, Iâm sure of that.â
âThat would be here?â The sergeant pointed to a large sheet of paper on the desk in front of him.
Leaning forward, Daisy saw it was a plan of the museum. âThatâs right,â she said. âWe must have been about halfway along when we heard someone ahead speaking loudly, then a sort of roar, and then the most frightful crash.â She hesitated. âThinking back, Iâm pretty sure it was Dr. Pettigrewâs voice, though I didnât recognize it immediately.â
âWhat did he say?â
âI couldnât catch the words. This buildingâs so solid it muffles sounds. We would have seen, though, if anyone had entered the dinosaur gallery through this arch.â She showed him on the plan.
âYes, that all agrees with Dr. Smith Woodwardâs statement. That lets him out.â
âAnd me,â said Daisy.
Tringâs moustache waggled above a half-concealed grin. âAnd you,â he acknowledged. âWhat next?â
âI dashed into the reptile gallery, and saw Pettigrew lying ⦠Iâm afraid I was rather too aghast to notice if anyone was running off. Iâm most frightfully sorry.â More affected by the memory than she had been by the actual event, Daisy suddenly felt cold and horribly sick.
Always light on his feet despite his size, Tom