When I entered the room, Taverner was just saying:
"And here we are.
I talked to them all, and what did I get?...
Absolutely nothing!
No motive.
None of them needs money.
And the only thing we got against the woman and the guy is that they exchanged glances when the coffee was poured."
"Come on, Taverner," I said. "I think I got a little more."
"Did you, indeed?
Very well, Mr Charles, what did you get?"
I sat down, lighted a cigarette, and observed the audience.
"Roger Leonides and his wife were planning to go abroad on next Tuesday.
Roger and his father had a tense interview on the day the old man died.
The old Leonides had found out something wrong and Roger was pleading guilty."
Taverner's face went purple.
"How the hell did you get hold of this?" he asked. "If it was from the servants..."
"Not from the servants. I got it -" I paused - "from a private agent."
"What do you mean?"
"I must admit that according to the rules of detective fiction he, or she, left the police far behind," I went on.
"And I also think that my private investigator still has some tricks up the sleeve."
"Roger!" said Taverner. "So Roger - is a scoundrel?"
I felt quite reluctant to tell all this, because I had liked Roger Leonides.
And it was also possible that Josephine's informations weren't trustworthy.
"So the kid told you?" said Taverner. "She seems to be wise to everything that goes on in that house."
"Children usually are," said my father drily.
This information, if true, altered the whole position.
If Roger had been, as Josephine had confidently suggested, 'embezzling' the funds of Associated Catering and if the old man had found it out, it might have been vital to silence old Leonides and to leave England before the truth came out.
Possibly Roger had rendered himself liable to criminal prosecution.
It was agreed that inquiries should be made without delay into the affairs of Associated Catering.
"It will be an almighty crash, if that goes," my father remarked.
"It's a huge concern. There are millions involved."
"If it's really in Queer Street, it gives us what we want," said Taverner.
"Father summons Roger.
Roger breaks down and confesses.
Brenda Leonides was out at a cinema.
Roger has only got to leave his father's room, walk into the bathroom, empty out an insulin phial and replace it with the strong solution of eserine and there you are.
Or his wife may have done it.
She went over to the other wing after she came home that day - says she went over to fetch a pipe Roger had left there.
But she could have gone over to switch the stuff before Brenda came home and gave him his injection.
She'd be quite cool and capable about it."
I nodded.
"Yes, I fancy her as the actual doer of the deed.
She's cool enough for anything!
And I don't think that Roger Leonides would think of poison as a means - that trick with the insulin has something feminine about it."
"Plenty of men poisoners," said my father drily.
"Oh, I know, sir," said Taverner. "Don't I know!" he added with feeling. "All the same I shouldn't have said Roger was the type."
"Pritchard," the Old Man reminded him, "was a good mixer."
"Let's say they were in it together."
"With the accent on Lady Macbeth," said my father, as Taverner departed. "Is that how she strikes you, Charles?"
I visualised the slight graceful figure standing by the window in that austere room.