"Because I knew Keppel was going to drink the stuff," Murchison answered bitterly. "No, no, I don't mean he was going to drink strychnine, and you can lay a small bet that neither did he. As for this envelope," be juggled with it, "as a matter of fact, I put it into the pigeon-hole of the desk myself. I was here this afternoon, you see. It was all a part of the same — well, so far as I can see or so far as I'm concerned, the same hoax."
From the chair Evelyn spoke almost casually.
"We're terribly grateful to you," she told him, "for pulling us out of that mess. But if you know the explanation of all this: then before I go completely off my rocker: before I turn into as stark gibbering a lunatic as Mr. Stone thinks I am: will you please, please tell us what this is all about?"
Murchison shook his head. "That's it. I don't know. All I know is what happened this afternoon. And that I'm likely to get into a devil of a lot of trouble myself."
He walked over and put his hat down on the bed. Then be folded his arms and stared at the floor, repeating, "Nice mess! Pretty mess!" as though he were calling on a dog to do tricks.
"Oh, ah. Well, Dr. Keppel.rang me up this afternoon, and asked me if I could come over here. I know him slightly. I've also met his friend, Mr. Hogenauer. You see, both of them were very anxious to keep on the good side of the law. Keppel not so much as Hogenauer, I admit. I gather Hogenauer had got in to a row in Germany, and was afraid we might deport him."
"Whoa there! There's been a lot of talk," Stone interposed, blinking curiously at me, "about a fellow named `L.' — and international plots-and maybe —‘
"International plots my foot," said Murchison explosively. He glanced up with a sort of heavy keenness. "Excuse me, Mr. Blake. Mind you, I don't want to contradict any Powers That Be, or put my oar in where I've got no business. But I have got business here now, worse luck; and I tell you quite frankly I think it's rubbish. Those two? Keppel and Hogenauer? I'll lay you a tanner that if Hogenauer ever saw so much as a dog without a license, he'd go and report it to the Moreton Abbot police station."
"Harmless," I said, "perhaps. But did you know that Keppel's got a sort of miniature guillotine rigged up on a window in there?"
Murchison jerked up his head. "Miniature guillotine? What do you mean?"