Blood From a Stone by Dolores Gordon-Smith Page A

otherwise, kicking about. It’s suggestive though, isn’t it? I wonder if Parsons had any dealings in France? That’s something we can find out.’
    â€˜They’re nice gloves, aren’t they? Kid, I’d say. A murderer in kid gloves.’ He raised his eyebrows expressively. ‘That’d make a snappy title for a magazine story. Which one’s bloodstained? The right? So we’re looking for a right-handed murderer with a taste in good gloves.’
    Rackham rubbed a piece of the material between his fingers. ‘They’re very flexible. Perfect for this sort of work.’
    â€˜Ghoul,’ commented Jack with a smile.
    Rackham opened his briefcase, wrapped up the gloves, the jewel-case and the knife-sheath and put them away. ‘I’ll have them fingerprinted back at the Yard.’
    He stopped and looked out of the open door of the compartment as footsteps sounded along the platform. A police constable hurried up to them, telegram in hand.
    â€˜This has just arrived, sir,’ he said to Bill.
    Rackham took the envelope. ‘Thank you, Marston.’ He slit the envelope and read the contents with a broad grin.
    â€˜This is from Mr Francis Leigh in reply to the telegram I sent him. Thanks to Isabelle, Mr Leigh now thinks Scotland Yard is composed of miracle workers. Listen to this. Just discovered robbery. Jewels and money missing from safe. Well, I can get in touch with Mr Leigh and tell him his property’s safe. Is there anything else you want to look at, Jack?’
    â€˜Not really. I think I’ll shoot off. I know you’re going to be busy.’
    â€˜All right. I’ll look in on the Stantons this evening, though. You’ll be there, won’t you?’
    â€˜Absolutely I will,’ said Jack, climbing down from the train. ‘See you there.’

FIVE
    L ater that evening Jack arrived at Isabelle and Arthur’s flat in Lydstep Mews.
    â€˜We’ve got a visitor, Jack,’ said Isabelle, as she hung his coat and hat in the hall wardrobe. ‘It’s all right, Lizzie,’ she called to the maid who had appeared at the end of the hall. ‘I’ll see to Major Haldean. Jack, I’d better warn you. Celia Leigh’s here.’
    Jack grinned at his cousin’s expression. ‘Is she?’ He laughed. ‘Stop looking as if you’re standing by the sickbed of a dying pal, Belle. It all fizzled out with Celia ages ago. She thinks I’m essentially frivolous so that was that, really. Mind you, we weren’t on Tristan and Isolde terms, just supper and a spot of dancing. I never stood under her window, serenading her with a mandolin.’
    Isabelle giggled. ‘I can’t think she’d have appreciated it if you had done. I don’t know why,’ she added, looking puzzled, ‘she and Ted haven’t announced their engagement yet. I hope they haven’t had a row.’
    â€˜So do I,’ Jack agreed. ‘Why’s she here?’
    â€˜To see me, of course. I’m hoping,’ she said with repressed excitement, ‘that she’ll tell us all about the sapphires. There’s something odd about the sapphires,’ said Isabelle, lowering her voice as they approached the sitting room door. ‘Celia’s being very cagey about them.’
    Celia Leigh, a tall, good-looking girl with fair hair and an earnest expression was sitting on the green sofa under the window.
    â€˜Jack, darling! Isabelle said you’d be calling. It’s so nice to see you again.’
    â€˜And you,’ he said, taking her hand with a warm smile. ‘Tell me, are congratulations in order? For you and Ted Marchant, I mean?’
    Celia’s mouth contracted into a straight line. ‘No, they aren’t. If Ted doesn’t come to his senses, I’m not sure congratulations ever will be in order. He’s got this idiotic idea of going off to Singapore, of all