"Case A, then," Flamborough began. "A double suicide. Now I don’t cotton much to that notion, for this reason. If it was suicide, then one or other of them must have had possession of hyoscine in quantity sufficient to kill both of them. So I judge from the quantity found in her body. Now no hyoscine was in young Hassendean’s system. His eyes were quite normal and there was no trace of the stuff in the stomach, as they found when they sent to your London friend on the question. From what I’ve seen of young Hassendean’s diary, and from what we’ve picked up about him from various sources, he wasn’t the sort of person to go in for needless pain. If he’d shot himself at all, it would have been in the head. And if he’d had hyoscine at hand, he wouldn’t have shot himself at all. He’d have swallowed a dose of the poison instead, and gone out painlessly."
"Correct inference, I believe," Sir Clinton confirmed. "I don’t say it’s certain, of course."
"Well, then, what holds in Case A, ought to hold also in the other two cases—C and E—where it’s also a question of young Hassendean’s suicide. So one can score them off as well."
"Not so fast," Sir Clinton interrupted. "I don’t say you’re wrong; but your assumption doesn’t cover the cases. In Case A you assumed that Mrs. Silverdale committed suicide—ergo, she had hyoscine in her possession. But in Case C, the assumption is that she died by accidental poisoning; and before you can eliminate suicide on young Hassendean’s part, you’ve got to prove that he had the hyoscine in his possession. I’m not saying that he hadn’t. I’m merely keeping you strictly to your logic."
Flamborough considered this for a few moments.
"Strictly speaking, I suppose you’re right, sir. And in Case E, I’d have to prove that he poisoned her wilfully, in order to cover the case of his having hyoscine in his possession. H’m!"
After a pause, he took up the table afresh.
"Let’s go back to Case B, then: a double murder. That brings in this third party—the person who did for the maid at Heatherfield, we’ll say; and the fellow who broke the window. There were signs of a struggle in that room at the bungalow, you remember. Now it seems to me that Case B piles things on too thick, if you understand what I mean. It means that Mrs. Silverdale was murdered by poison and that young Hassendean was shot to death. Why the two methods when plain shooting would have been good enough in both cases? Take the obvious case—it’s been at the back of my mind, and I’m sure it’s been at the back of yours too, that Silverdale surprised the two of them at the bungalow and killed them both. Where does the poison come in? To my mind we ought to put a pencil through Case B. It’s most improbable."
Rather to his relief, Sir Clinton made no objection. The Inspector drew his pencil through the first two lines of the table, then let it hover over the last line.
"What about Case F, sir? She suicided and he was murdered. If she suicided, it was a premeditated affair—otherwise they wouldn’t have had the hyoscine at hand. But if it was one of these lovers’ suicide-pacts, they’d have had a dose ready for him as well—and there wasn’t a trace of the stuff spilt on the floor or anywhere about the bungalow. Score out Case F, sir?"
"I’ve no objections to your putting your pencil through it if you like, Inspector, though my reasons are rather different from the ones you give."
Flamborough looked up suspiciously, but gathered from Sir Clinton’s face that there was nothing further to be expected.
"Well, at least that’s narrowed down the possibilities a bit," he said with relief. "You started out with nine possible solutions to the affair—covering every conceivable combination. Now we’re down to three."
He picked up his paper and read out the residual scheme, putting fresh identifying letters to the three cases:
"You agree to that, sir?" Flamborough demanded.
"Oh, yes!" Sir Clinton admitted, in a careless tone. "I think the truth probably lies somewhere among those three solutions. The bother will be to prove it."
At this moment a constable entered the room, bringing some letters and a newspaper in a postal wrapper.
"Come by the next post, as I expected," the Chief Constable remarked, picking up the packet and removing the wrapper with care. "The usual method of addressing, you see: letters cut from telegraph forms and gummed on to the official stamped wrapper. Well, let’s have a look at the news."
He unfolded the sheet and glanced over the advertisement pages in search of a marked paragraph.
"Ingenious devil, Inspector," he went on. "The other advertisement was in the Courier, this is a copy of to-day’s Gazette. That makes sure that no one reading down a column of advertisements would be struck by a resemblance and start comparisons. I begin to like Mr. Justice. He’s thorough, anyhow. . . . Ah, here we are! Marked like the other one. Listen, Inspector:
"CLINTON: Take the letters in the following order.
