“Can’t get away from facts, you know,” observed Alec sagely.
“No, but you can explain them. And I’m dashed if I can see the explanation for this one.”
“Well, what’s the idea?” Alec asked curiously. “You’re being infernally mysterious.”
“Me? I like that. It isn’t I who am being mysterious. It’s everything else. Facts and people and everything. Look here, we won’t go in for a moment. Let’s find a seat somewhere and try and get a grip on things. I’m getting out of my depth, and I don’t like it.”
He led the way to where a few garden chairs were scattered beneath a big cedar at one of the corners of the lawn, and threw himself into one of them. Alec followed suit, somewhat more cautiously. Alec was a big person, and he had met garden chairs before.
“Proceed,” he said, fishing for his pipe. “You interest me strangely.”
Nothing loth, Roger took up his tale.
“Well, then, in the first place let’s consider the human side of things. Hasn’t it struck you that there are four separate and distinct people here whose conduct during the last few hours has been, to say the least of it, remarkable?”
“No,” said Alec candidly, “it hasn’t. Two have, I know. Who are the other two?”
“Well, the butler is one. He didn’t seem particularly cut up over Stanworth’s death, did he? Not that you look for a tremendous display of emotion from a great hulking brute like that, true. But you do look for some.”