Anyway, don't argue, Murgatroyd.
I want to get back to the original attempt on Letty Blacklog.
Now, to begin with, get the facts firmly into your head, because it's all going to depend upon you."
Miss Murgatroyd looked alarmed.
"Oh, dear, Hinch, you know what a muddle I get into!"
"It's not a question of your brains, or the grey fluff that passes for brains with you.
It's a question of eyes.
It's a question of what you saw."
"But I didn't see anything."
"The trouble with you is, Murgatroyd, as I said just now, that you won't try.
Now pay attention.
This is what happened. Whoever it is that's got it in for Letty Blacklog was there in that room that evening.
He (I say he because it's easier, but there's no reason why it should be a man more than a woman except, of course, that men are dirty dogs), well, he has previously oiled that second door that leads out of the drawing-room and which is supposed to be nailed up or something.
Don't ask me when he did it, because that confuses things.
Actually, by choosing my time, I could walk into any house in Chipping Cleghorn and do anything I liked there for half an hour or so with no one being the wiser.
It's just a question of working out where the daily women are and when the occupiers are out and exactly where they've gone and how long they'll be.
Just good staff work.
Now, to continue.
He's oiled that second door.
It will open without a sound.
Here's the set-up: Lights go out, door A (the regular door) opens with a flourish.
Business with torch and hold-up lines. In the meantime, while we're all goggling, X (that's the best term to use) slips quietly out by door B into the dark hall, comes up behind that Swiss idiot, takes a couple of shots at Letty Blacklog and then shoots the Swiss.
Drops the revolver, where lazy thinkers like you will assume it's evidence that the Swiss did the shooting, and nips back into the room again by the time that someone gets a lighter going.
Got it?"
"Yes - ye-es, but who was it?"
"Well, if you don't know, Murgatroyd, nobody does!"
"Me?" Miss Murgatroyd fairly twittered in alarm.
"But I don't know anything at all.
I don't really, Hinch!"
"Use that fluff of yours you call a brain.
To begin with, where was everybody when the lights went out?"
"I don't know."
"Yes, you do.
You're maddening, Murgatroyd.
You know where you were, don't you?
You were behind the door."
"Yes - yes, I was.
It knocked against my corn when it flew open."
"Why don't you go to a proper chiropodist instead of messing about yourself with your feet.
You'll give yourself blood poisoning one of these days.
Come on, now - you're behind the door.
I'm standing against the mantelpiece with my tongue hanging out for a drink.
Letty Blacklog is by the table near the archway, getting the cigarettes.
Patrick Simmons has gone through the archway into the small room where Letty Blacklog has had the drinks put.
Agreed?"
"Yes, yes, I remember all that."
"Good, now somebody else followed Patrick into that room or was just starting to follow him.
One of the men.
The annoying thing is that I can't remember whether it was Easterbrook or Edmund Swettenham.
Do you remember?"