Death at Breakfast. John Rhode

I can think of, is that he must have used his early morning tea as shaving water,’ suggested Jimmy flippantly.

      ‘You’ll have to think of something a bit more sensible than that,’ Hanslet replied. ‘Here we are, I’ve got the key in my pocket, and the local people have had instructions to keep an eye on the place.’

      The superintendent unlocked the door and they entered. A rapid survey was sufficient to assure Hanslet that nothing had been touched since his last visit. In the dining-room Harleston’s untouched breakfast looked more unappetising than ever. The imprint made by the body on the sofa in the sitting-room was still visible. A woman’s crumpled handkerchief lay in the hall. It had evidently been dropped by Janet in the course of her hurried departure. Hanslet picked it up and sniffed at it. It smelt faintly of eau-de-Cologne.

      Remembering Dr Priestley’s hint, Hanslet led the way to the bathroom. He and Jimmy stood just inside the doorway whence they could survey the whole room. On the ledge by the wash-basin they saw the safety razor, the stick of shaving soap and the brush. Thrown carelessly over a towel rail was a bath towel, but this seemed to bear no trace of blood. Only those two or three drops of blood on the edge of the basin showed that the cut must have bled fairly freely.

      ‘We know that Victor Harleston has a recent cut on the right side of his face,’ said Hanslet. ‘We can’t say for certain, of course, that he made this cut while he was shaving himself. The cut may have been caused in some other way. Yet, if we accept Janet’s statement, we have confirmation of the shaving theory. She asked him whether he had cut himself shaving and he admitted it rather surlily.

      ‘On the other hand, Janet may have had some reason for her statement. She may have wished to create the impression that her half-brother had cut himself while shaving. Again, where is the towel he must have used? He may have thrown it into a dirty clothes basket somewhere. No, from what one may judge of his habits he was not a very tidy man. Let’s have a look round and see if we can’t unearth it somewhere.’

      They scoured the house without success. In the little boxroom was a clothes basket containing a few items of dirty linen. But the towel they were seeking was not among these. There were no coal fires in the house, so the theory that it might have been burnt was untenable. After an exhaustive search of every corner, they were bound to confess themselves nonplussed.

      ‘I can’t make it out,’ said Hanslet petulantly. ‘What do you do, when you cut yourself shaving, Jimmy?’

      ‘Grab hold of the towel and dab my face with it,’ Jimmy replied promptly.

      ‘Exactly. So I imagine does everybody else. In this case, the cut began to bleed at once. These drops on the basin show that. Harleston must have dabbed his face with something, but what? Not the bath towel—there’s no blood on that. His handkerchief, as I happened to notice yesterday morning, has no blood upon it. In any case, blood or no blood, the man must have used a towel to dry his face after shaving. Where is it? And there’s another queer thing, Jimmy. This shaving brush was bone dry when I looked at it yesterday morning. That seems to me pretty queer, for in my experience a shaving brush remains wet for a long time after use.’

      ‘That is rather queer,’ said Jimmy thoughtfully. ‘I wonder whether Harleston was right or left-handed?’

      ‘What the devil has that got to do with it?’ Hanslet demanded.

      ‘I was just thinking of the technique of shaving. Most people lather their face all over and then begin to use the razor. If they are right-handed, they almost invariably start on the right side of their faces on a level with the ear. If, then, Harleston was right-handed, he probably cut himself as soon as he started shaving.’

      ‘That’s rather a neat point, Jimmy,’ said Hanslet approvingly. ‘But I don’t see that it is of any particular use to us.’

      ‘Only this. Apparently he finished shaving after he had cut himself. In which case he must continually have dabbed his face with something, and that something must have absorbed a considerable quantity of blood.’

      ‘Well, since we can’t find it, that’s hardly helpful.’

      ‘What is he likely to have done with it?’ Jimmy insisted. ‘His face probably continued bleeding after he had finished shaving. He might have taken this towel, or whatever it was, into his bedroom to use while he was dressing. If you don’t mind I’ll have one last search in there.’

      Hanslet raised no objection to this. Jimmy went into Harleston’s bedroom and proceeded to examine everything which the room contained. In the course of his search he came upon the vase containing the spills. He turned these out and looked inside the vase. There was no towel or fragment of rag within it. As he replaced the spills, he noticed the fragment of an embossed word upon one of them. He unfolded the spill, thus revealing the word Novoshave.

      Hanslet was still pursuing his search in the bathroom. Jimmy took in the spills.

      ‘Did not you tell me that you found some headed paper belonging to Novoshave Ltd?’ he asked.

      ‘Yes, in the desk in the dining-room,’ Hanslet replied. ‘Why?’

      ‘Because here’s a bit of another sheet of the same paper. And this sheet has had a letter typed upon it.’

      Hanslet seemed unimpressed. ‘Well, that’s not a very sensational discovery,’ he said. ‘You’d much better keep your mind fixed on the towel.’

      But Jimmy’s imagination had been set to work. Novoshave Ltd. He had seen their advertisement. They were, he knew, a firm who specialised in the manufacture of safety razors and other shaving requisites.

      The tiresome and recurrent business of shaving seemed to be the background of this case. It might be worth while ascertaining the nature of the communication from Novoshave Ltd. to Victor Harleston.

      It was an easy matter to unfold the four spills and so to piece together the letter from which they had been made. It was typewritten and ran as follows:

      ‘DEAR MR. HARLESTON. As you are no doubt aware we are about to place upon the market our new model K. safety razor. This model has certain features which render it the most efficient safety razor yet produced. We are confident that it will meet with a ready welcome from the general public.

      ‘We are anxious, however, to have a few opinions other than our own. For this purpose we have decided to distribute specimens of this model among certain of our friends. We have the greatest pleasure in including you among the number. Enclosed you will find one of our model K. razors in leather case. We have also included a tube of our famous Novoshave cream. This is applied direct to the face and no brush or water are necessary.

      ‘We shall be greatly indebted to you if you will be good enough to make an early trial of the razor and cream, and at your convenience to report to us the results obtained by you.’

      The letter was dated January 18th, three days’ prior to Harleston’s death. He had been in no hurry to make the trial, Jimmy thought. The safety razor found in the bathroom was an ordinary Gillette, not a Novoshave. Nor had the tube of shaving cream come to light. Harleston had apparently been in the habit of using Pears shaving soap. Perhaps he had put away the gift so generously made him by Novoshave Ltd., intending to use it upon some future occasion.

      Jimmy idly turned over the strips of paper forming the letter. On the back he observed some figures in pencil. These were as follows:

      Jimmy put the letter aside and proceeded to unfold the remaining spills. These, having been made of fragments of newspaper, contained no information of significance. He resumed his search for the towel, even going so far as to lift the carpet in case it should have been hidden underneath it. At last he was compelled to admit to complete failure.

      Hanslet had had no better luck in the bathroom. He seemed put out by his lack of success.

      ‘It’s no good wasting any more of our time here,’ he exclaimed crossly.