“But I’m not a murderer,” said George, putting his finger on the weak spot.
“No, George, at present you’re not; at least, so we hope. But if you ever happened to murder anybody, then you, yes, even you, George Howard, would be a murderer; and we should be studying the intricate psychology which caused you to snatch at your niblick and lay the vicar low just as eagerly as we now discuss the singular mentality of Mr. George Joseph Smith, who drowned a woman in her bath one minute and strummed on the organ in his sitting-room the next.”
“What he means,” Mr. Doyle chimed in, “is that the really interesting thing is the reactions of the ordinary person to the idea of murder. What he feels like,” he amplified kindly, “after he’s done it, in fact.”
“And before,” Guy amended.
“And before,” Mr. Doyle agreed. “Look, in short, upon this picture and on that. Mr. Howard before murder, same gent after murder. The cross marks the spot where the body was found.”
“So now do you understand, George?” Guy inquired.
“I think so,” George responded, trying to look as if he did. “You mean, you like probing into the mind of a chap who’s committed a murder?”
“In a nutshell!” approved Mr. Doyle.
“But unfortunately we have to do our probing at second-hand,” Guy lamented. “Or rather, we have to let others do the probing for us and then try to draw our own deductions. What wouldn’t you give, Doyle, for the chance to probe yourself? To psycho-analyse a murderer before the law got hold of him and messed his mind up?”
“Oh, don’t!”