“I never heard it,” said Campion. “I missed the crime entirely. It was new on me when Toberman told me the other day.”
“Oh, no. It’s famous in its way.” Luke was still searching his memory. “She committed suicide, I think.” He shook his head as some of the details remained obstinately shadowy and turned a broadly smiling face to Mrs. Broome. “Well, anyway, you got it in and startled the poor copper,” he said. “You’re old Beanspilling-Bertha herself, aren’t you?”
Nanny Broome was not amused. As usual when the joke was against her she made every effort to get her own back.
“I’ve got nothing to hide,” she muttered, jerking up her chin. “Not like some people.”
Luke’s interest was captured despite his better judgment. “Out with it,” he commanded. “Who are you telling tales on now?”
“No one
