"Yes, sir, I am; and I admit it. Who wouldn't be? If you can suggest any explanation of how those daggers could have been exchanged, I'd be glad to hear it. But, so far as I can see, there isn't any."
"Oh, my son! Of course there's an explanation!"
"An explanation that fits all the facts?"
"An explanation that fits all the facts."
"And you know it?"
"Sure. It's easy."
Masters got up from his chair, but sat down again. H.M. struggled up to a sitting position.
"No, son: I'm not just actin' the cryptic. I really am worried. I'm afraid that if I tell you this explanation you'll go harm' off on the wrong track."
"I can believe evidence, Sir Henry."
"Yes. I know. That's what worries me. See here." H.M. ruffled the tips of his fingers across his forehead. "For the sake of argument, do you believe the stories of these witnesses — Ann Browning, Captain Sharpless, Dr. Rich, Hubert Fane — that none of 'em went near the table at any time?"