A Greek Beauty

A Greek Beauty
A Lily Pond
Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder
American Day Dream
The letter had been through the post, there was no enclosure inside, it was just a torn envelope - addressed to Mrs. Martine Crackenthorpe, 126 Elvers Crescent, N.10.
"You see?" said Alexander breathlessly. "It shows she was here – Uncle Edmund's French wife, I mean – the one there's all the fuss about. She must have actually been here and dropped it somewhere. So it looks, doesn't it –"
Stoddart-West broke in:
"It looks as though she was the one who got murdered - I mean, don't you think, sir, that it simply must have been her in the sarcophagus?"
They waited anxiously.
Craddock played up.
"Possible, very possible," he said.
"This is important, isn't it?"
"You'll test it for fingerprints, won't you, sir?"
"Of course," said Craddock.
Stoddart-West gave a deep sigh.
"Smashing luck for us, wasn't it?" he said. "On our last day, too."