"Exactly," said Miss Hinchliffe.
"A revolver, a torch and a door to hold open - a bit too much, isn't it?
So what's the answer?"
Miss Murgatroyd did not attempt to supply an answer. She looked inquiringly and admiringly at her masterful friend and waited to be enlightened.
"We know he'd got a revolver, because he fired it," said Miss Hinchliffe.
"And we know he had a torch because we all saw it - that is unless we're all the victims of mass hypnotism like explanations of the Indian Rope trick (what a bore that old Easterbrook is with his Indian stories) so the question is, did someone hold that door open for him?"
"But who could have done that?"
"Well, you could have for one, Murgatroyd.
As far as I remember, you were standing directly behind it when the lights went out."
Miss Hinchliffe laughed heartily.
"Highly suspicious character, aren't you, Murgatroyd?
But who'd think it to look at you.
Here, give me that trowel - thank heavens it isn't really a revolver. You'd have shot yourself by now!"
"It's a most extraordinary thing," muttered Colonel Easterbrook.
"Most extraordinary. Laura."
"Yes, darling?"
"Come into my dressing-room a moment."
"What is it, darling?"
Mrs. Easterbrook appeared through the open door.
"Remember my showing you that revolver of mine?"
"Oh, yes, Archie, a nasty horrid black thing."
"Yes.
Hun souvenir.
Was in this drawer, wasn't it?"
"Yes, it was."
"Well, it's not there now."
"Archie, how extraordinary!"
"You haven't moved it or anything?"
"Oh, no, I'd never dare to touch the horrid thing."
"Think old mother what's-the-name did?"
"Oh, I shouldn't think so, for a minute.
Mrs. Butt would never do a thing like that.
Shall I ask her?"
"No - no, better not.
Don't want to start a lot of talk. Tell me, do you remember when it was I showed it to you?"
"Oh, about a week ago.
You were grumbling about your collars and the laundry and you opened this drawer wide and there it was at the back and I asked you what it was."
"Yes, that's right.
About a week ago.
You don't remember the date?"
Mrs. Easterbrook considered, eyelids down over her eyes, a shrewd brain working.
"Of course," she said. "It was Saturday.
The day we were to have gone in to the pictures, but we didn't."
"H'm - sure it wasn't before that?
Wednesday? Thursday or even the week before that again?"
"No, dear," said Mrs. Easterbrook.
"I remember quite distinctly.
It was Saturday the 30th.
It just seems a long time because of all the trouble there's been.
And I can tell you how I remember.