Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 26, No. 4. Whole No. 143, October 1955

“And then the claimant sprang a bombshell. There was after all, it appeared, one highly personal relationship in his life. Shortly before that bombing trip he had met and become engaged to a young lady. He demanded to be confronted with her. And the — young lady, when named, proved to be the only daughter of the occasion’s Grand Inquisitor.”

I stared. “Firth?”

Appleby bobbed his head. “Exactly... and that was where I came in. Miss Firth — at least, according to her father’s idea of her — was a young person of an extremely delicate nervous constitution; and to be presented with a lover from the grave, and later see him unmasked as an impostor, Would be quite, quite fatal to her. So Firth came and besought me. Could I resolve the puzzle straightaway, or at least arrive at some reliable opinion? I said I thought I could.”

“And you did?”

“Yes. Not in a fashion that would have had much value as evidence in a court. But at least it gave Firth confidence in choosing a line.

“I did a quick rake around photographers who might have had dealings with young Morton just before the war — and then some equally quick work in our own laboratories and files. When I met the young man — whose face was certainly badly disfigured — I had a batch of portraits, including the one that you see hanging here. I asked him to select his own portrait, and he promptly chose this one. I wonder if you can see what that meant to me?”

“I don’t know that I can.”

“I was able to tell Firth that the claimant was certainly genuine, and that his daughter might be brought along.”

This floored me completely. “My dear Appleby, I don’t see—”

“I realize you don’t. Imagine you’re a tailor, and try again.”

Inspiration came to me. “The buttons and buttonholes!”

Appleby was delighted. “Splendid! What about them?”

“They’re on the wrong side. The printing has been reversed!”

“Exactly. I found a photograph of Morton, and had this reverse print prepared. The two looked substanially different, because human features are never symmetrical, and his were more irregular than most. Both prints were included in the batch he was to sort through to find himself. You see what was involved?”

“I’m blessed if I do still.”

“If he chose the original print, he was choosing a Leonard Morton he recognized from life. If he chose the reverse print, he was choosing a Leonard Morton he had never seen — except in a mirror.

“That, you see, was how I knew he was the genuine Morton.”

Remember Madame Clementine by Anthony Gilbert

When Cynthia was seventeen, the fortune teller promised her a lot of money — and something else that Cynthia and her two best friends, Agatha and Anne, would never forget...

* * *

I only saw Madame Clementine once, and that was nearly 30 years ago. She was telling fortunes at a fete for Destitute Children, and Miss Bennett gave the seniors the afternoon off “in a good cause.” I went with my friends, Agatha and Cynthia. We were all seventeen at the time.

It was Agatha who said we must all have half-a-crown’s-worth. Cynthia hung back.

“She might tell me something horrible,” she demurred.

“They aren’t allowed to,” Agatha assured her. She was the obviously successful member of the trio — you couldn’t imagine life daring to cheat Agatha — while Cynthia was the beauty. And how, as my sons say! I was what is still called the Plain Jane.

“You’ll come, Anne,” Agatha continued, swinging round to me.

“Just for a joke,” I said.

Agatha went first and came back saying Madame Clementine was really quite reliable. She’d told her she would have a successful life, with fame and fortune.

“Which is just what I intend,” nodded Agatha. “I only wanted to see how much she really knew.”

Then it was my turn. Madame Clementine took my hand, glanced at it, and returned it to me.

“That’s the kind of hand I like best,” she said. “My dear, you will have a very happy life.”

“Is that all you’re going to tell me?” I asked, thinking, I suppose, it wasn’t very much for half-a-crown.

Madame stared. “All? What more could you desire? Yours is the best of fortunes. Money loses its value and beauty dies, but happiness is immortal.”

We had to coax Cynthia to go in. In my heart I didn’t believe any harm could come to anyone so lovely. I used to wonder what it must feel like to know that heads were turning wherever you went. I must say for Cynthia she hardly seemed aware of it.

She was away longer than either of us, and when she returned she was chalk-white and walking like a blind person.

We were horrified. “Pull yourself together, Cynnie,” exclaimed Agatha. “What on earth’s the matter?”