"Oh?" inquired Masters skeptically.
"— or he wouldn't have asked her certain questions later, under hypnosis, that I'm goin' to tell you about in a minute. But this gal here—" he pointed at Ann— "was doubtful. So Rich took the opportunity of getting rid of her quickly by a trick. That's all."
Masters took out his notebook. He balanced it on his knee. He shot back his shirt-cuffs, to make plain that his words would be careful and weighty.
"Now listen to me for a minute, sir. You yourself admit that Mrs. Fane is the only person who could be guilty. Now don't you?"
"According to the evidence, yes."
"Just so. And she could have shammed being hypnotized, couldn't she?"
"I s'pose so."
"In a way that could have deceived even Dr. Rich himself? Just so!" Masters was warming up again. "It'd take a thundering good piece of acting, granted. But we've met these good actresses before. Remember Glenda Darworth? And Janet Derwent? And Hilary Keen?
"She could have switched the daggers, right enough. The next question is: what happened to the rubber dagger afterwards? She 'slipped it in her sleeve,' you suggest. But it didn't stay there. Where is the rubber dagger, then? Agnew tells me he made a thorough search of that back sitting room, but he didn't find it."
"No," said H.M. disconsolately, "I found it."