"Why don't you have Serpos in?" she cried. "Why on earth don't you have him in and have a go at him? He's the most important figure in the case. You old devil, you've got something up your sleeve! I know you have. I can feel it, but I can't think what it is and it makes me mad." She paused, brooding, and pushed up her full lower lip. "Besides, there's another thing. So you didn't want to alarm poor Mrs. Antrim with news of the horrid murder, didn't you? Well, you jolly well didn't hesitate to alarm me with your corpses! You sent me to pick one up. Poor Mrs. Antrim, and bah to you.
"Now, now," said H.M. soothingly. "You. You bounce. You're all right. But Mrs. A. don't bounce the least bit. Point's this: you've now seen the second of the parade go past and you've heard his story. You've heard Antrim's tale of the phantom burglar. You've heard him, and it's now time to pass judgment. Guilty or not guilty?"
For a second we stood listening to the rain, each of us wondering what the others would say. It was Charters, thrusting out his bony face, who spoke-irritably. "Not guilty," said Charters. "Not guilty," said Evelyn. "Not guilty," said I.
"Well, Lord love-a-duck " breathed H.M., craning round at us. His almost invisible eyebrows went up to join the wrinkles in his forehead. "Burn me, but I don't understand your mental processes! Look here. First there comes in a gal who tells a straight story and also behaves in a way which appears to demonstrate her innocence pretty conclusively, to say nothing of showin' of her own accord that the burgled window is all eyewash. And Ken looks dubious, even though he votes her not guilty, and the Evelyn wench reserves judgment with ominous wags of her black cap. Next, there walks in a man who tells us a story amountin' to this; a burglar from outside has broken the catch of the window from inside, has raised a window which ordinarily sticks so much they can't usually raise it themselves, has done all this without any noise except a very faint crack, and, to cap it all, has commenced his house-breakin' almost as soon as Antrim has switched off a light upstairs. Oh, my eye. And no sooner do you hear it than you all triumphantly sing out, `Not guilty.' You too, Charters. Are you goin' to plead masculine intuition?"
"There has got to be such a thing as masculine intuition," returned Charters with asperity, "or nobody would ever succeed in business. Only, it's never talked about. It's taken for granted. And therefore I tell you that the look of that young fellow-"
"Here! You, of all people, aren't goin' to hold to the belief that a murderer always looks like a murderer?"
"I submit," said Charters, "that at least it's much more sensible than the detective-story belief that a murderer never looks like one. I think we've gone too far in the other direction. Yes, I know all the old outworn fallacies: Lombroso is nonsense, and there's no such thing as a criminal type. That's not quite what Lombroso said, by the way; but let it pass. In general, I agree. You or I or Blake or anyone might be a thief and a murderer. We might even be able to, fool the police. But, whatever we said to the police, we should never talk as Larry Antrim has talked to us to-night."
"All of you like to get the old man in a corner, don't you?" asked H.M. querulously. "Nothin' delights your souls more than to see me done again. Well, then, riddle me this. Dr.
A. says burglar. Mrs. A. says no burglar. Which of 'em lied?"
"Has it occurred to you," said Charters, "that neither of them lied? Suppose a burglar did get into the house-by some other window, or door, or something-and made those very obvious marks on a window in order to throw suspicion on the Antrims, and make us think that they made the marks themselves?"