Philip Lombard said:
"As you're just about to tell me, it's not worth the trouble of guessing."
Ex-Inspector Blore was an earnest man. A light touch was incomprehensible to him. He went on heavily:
"There was a case in America. Old gentleman and his wife - both killed with an axe. Middle of the morning. Nobody in the house but the daughter and the maid. Maid, it was proved, couldn't have done it. Daughter was a respectable middle-aged spinster. Seemed incredible. So incredible that they acquitted her. But they never found any other explanation." He paused. "I thought of that when I saw the axe - and then when I went into the kitchen and saw her there so neat and calm. Hadn't turned a hair! That girl, coming all over hysterical - well, that's natural - the sort of thing you'd expect - don't you think so?"
Philip Lombard said laconically:
"It might be."
Blore went on.
"But the other! So neat and prim - wrapped up in that apron - Mrs. Rogers' apron, I suppose - saying: 'Breakfast will be ready in half an hour or so.' If you ask me that woman's as mad as a hatter! Lots of elderly spinsters go that way - I don't mean go in for homicide on the grand scale, but go queer in their heads. Unfortunately it's taken her this way. Religious mania - thinks she's God's instrument, something of that kind! She sits in her room, you know, reading her Bible."
Philip Lombard sighed and said:
"That's hardly proof positive of an unbalanced mentality, Blore."
But Blore went on, ploddingly, perseveringly:
"And then she was out - in her mackintosh, said she'd been down to look at the sea."
The other shook his head.
He said:
"Rogers was killed as he was chopping firewood - that is to say first thing when he got up. The Brent woman wouldn't have needed to wander about outside for hours afterwards. If you ask me, the murderer of Rogers would take jolly good care to be rolled up in bed snoring."
Blore said:
"You're missing the point, Mr. Lombard. If the woman was innocent she'd be too dead scared to go wandering about by herself. She'd only do that if she knew that she had nothing to fear. That's to say if she herself is the criminal."
Philip Lombard said:
"That's a good point... Yes, I hadn't thought of that."
He added with a faint grin:
"Glad you don't still suspect me."
Blore said rather shamefacedly:
"I did start by thinking of you - that revolver - and the queer story you told - or didn't tell. But I've realized now that that was really a bit too obvious," He paused and said: "Hope you feel the same about me."
Philip said thoughtfully:
"I may be wrong, of course, but I can't feel that you've got enough imagination for this job. All I can say is, if you're the criminal, you're a damned fine actor and I take my hat off to you." He lowered his voice. "Just between ourselves, Blore, and taking into account that we'll probably both be a couple of stiffs before another day is out, you did indulge in that spot of perjury, I suppose?"
Blore shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. He said at last:
"Doesn't seem to make much odds now. Oh, well, here goes. Landor was innocent right enough. The gang had got me squared and between us we got him put away for a stretch. Mind you, I wouldn't admit this -"
"If there were any witnesses," finished Lombard with a grin. "It's just between you and me. Well, I hope you made a tidy bit out of it."
"Didn't make what I should have done. Mean crowd, the Purcell gang. I got my promotion, though."
"And Landor got penal servitude and died in prison."
"I couldn't know he was going to die, could I?" demanded Blore.
"No, that was your bad luck."
"Mine? His, you mean."
"Yours, too. Because, as a result of it, it looks as though your own life is going to be cut unpleasantly short."
"Me?" Blore stared at him. "Do you think I'm going to go the way of Rogers and the rest of them? Not me! I'm watching out for myself pretty carefully, I can tell you."
Lombard said:
"Oh, well - I'm not a betting man. And anyway if you were dead I wouldn't get paid."
"Look here, Mr. Lombard, what do you mean?"
Philip Lombard showed his teeth. He said:
"I mean, my dear Blore, that in my opinion you haven't got a chance!"
"What?"
"Your lack of imagination is going to make you absolutely a sitting target. A criminal of the imagination of U.N. Owen can make rings round you any time he - or she - wants to."
Blore's face went crimson. He demanded angrily:
"And what about you?"
Philip Lombard's face went hard and dangerous.
He said:
"I've a pretty good imagination of my own. I've been in tight places before now and got out of them! I think - I won't say more than that but I think I'll get out of this one."
V
The eggs were in the frying-pan. Vera, at the stove, thought to herself:
"Why did I make a hysterical fool of myself? That was a mistake. Keep calm, my girl, keep calm."
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