But he's paid in pretty considerable sums into his accounts in the last year."
"That sounds promising.
What's his explanation?"
"Says they're betting gains.
It's perfectly true that he goes to all the large race meetings.
Places his bets on the course too, doesn't run an account."
The Chief Constable nodded. "Hard to disprove that," he said. "But it's suggestive."
Colgate went on:
"Next, the Reverend Stephen Lane.
He's bona fide all right - had a living at St Helen's, Whiteridge, Surrey - resigned his living just over a year ago owing to ill-health.
His ill-health amounted to his going into a nursing home for mental patients. He was there for over a year."
"Interesting," said Weston.
"Yes, sir. I tried to get as much as I could out of the doctor in charge but you know what these medicos are - it's difficult to pin them down to anything you can get hold of.
But as far as I can make out, his Reverence's trouble was an obsession about the Devil - especially the Devil in the guise of woman - scarlet woman - whore of Babylon."
"H'm," said Weston.
"There have been precedents for murder there."
"Yes, sir.
It seems to me that Stephen Lane is at least a possibility.
The late Mrs Marshall was a pretty good example of what a clergyman would call a Scarlet Woman - hair and goings-on and all.
Seems to me it's not impossible he may have felt it his appointed task to dispose of her. That is if he is really batty."
"Nothing to fit in with the blackmail theory?"
"No, sir.
I think we can wash him out as far as that's concerned.
Has some private means of his own, but not very much, and no sudden increase lately."
"What about his story of his movements on the day of the crime?"
"Can't get any confirmation of them.
Nobody remembers meeting a parson in the lanes. As to the book at the church, the last entry was three days before and nobody looked at it for about a fortnight.
He could have quite easily gone over the day before, say, or even a couple of days before, and dated his entry the 25th."
Weston nodded.
He said: "And the third man?" "Horace Blatt?
It's my opinion, sir, that there's definitely something fishy there.
Pays income tax on a sum far exceeding what he makes out of his hardware business.
And mind you, he's a slippery customer.
He could probably cook up a reasonable statement - he gambles a bit on the Stock Exchange and he's in with one or two shady deals.
Oh, yes, there may be plausible explanations, but there's no getting away from it that he's been making pretty big sums from unexplained sources for some years now."
"In fact," said Weston, "the idea is that Mr Horace Blatt is a successful blackmailer by profession?"
"Either that, sir, or it's dope.
I saw Chief Inspector Ridgeway who's in charge of the dope business, and he was no end keen.
Seems there's been a good bit of heroin coming in lately.
They're on to the small distributors and they know more or less who's running it the other end, but it's the way it's coming into the country that's baffled them so far."
Weston said: "If the Marshall woman's death is the result of her getting mixed up, innocently or otherwise, with the dope-running stunt, then we'd better hand the whole thing over to Scotland Yard.
It's their pigeon.
Eh? What do you say?"
Inspector Colgate said rather regretfully: "I'm afraid you're right, sir.
If it's dope, then it's a case for the Yard."
Weston said after a moment or two's thought:
"It really seems the most likely explanation."
Colgate nodded gloomily. "Yes, it does. Marshall's right out of it - though I did get some information that might have been useful if his alibi hadn't been so good.
Seems his firm is very near the rocks.
Not his fault or his partner's, just the general result of the crisis last year and the general state of trade and finance.