He wandered impatiently from one to the other, trying desperately to put himself in the place of the criminal. What would he have done?
With some ceremony Alec filled and lighted his pipe. When it was in full blast he leaned back in his chair and allowed his eyes to rest approvingly on the cool greens of the gardens outside.
“Life’s too short,” he remarked lazily. “If it really was a clear case of murder, I’d be on the trail as strenuously as anyone. But really, old man, when you come to consider—calmly and sanely, I mean—how extraordinarily little you’ve got to go on and how you’re twisting the most ordinary things, why I think even you will admit in a few weeks’ time that when all’s said and done we——”
“Alec!”
Something in Roger’s tone caused Alec to turn round in his chair and look at him. He was leaning out of the lattice window, apparently intent on the garden outside.
“Well?” said Alec tolerantly. “What is it now?”
“If you come here, Alec,” said Roger, very gently, “I’ll show you how the murderer got away last night.”
CHAPTER XIII.
Mr. Sheringham Investigates a Footprint
“Show me what?” Alec exclaimed, bounding out of his chair.
“How the murderer escaped,” Roger repeated, turning and smiling happily at his dumb-founded accomplice. “It’s extraordinarily simple, really. That’s why we never spotted it. Have you ever noticed, Alec, that it’s always the simple things of life—plans, inventions, what you like—that are the most effective? Take, for instance——”