"What?"
"Uh-huh. I'd better point that out to you. Come over here and look. You see that decanter? Notice how heavy it is? Notice where it is? — not on the hearthstone, but on the carpet. I defy you to smash that decanter merely by upsettin' a low tabouret and havin' it hit the floor. The Visitor busted it, son… Now look at those smashed glasses. Did you ever see any parts of a glass crushed by fallin' on the floor? I'll lay you a fiver you didn't. They're on the stone, where the Visitor put 'em and deliberately mashed 'em."
"But in a struggle-'
"Ho ho," said H. M., settling his coat over his shoulders. "Try the experiment some time. Put a round drinking-glass on the floor, imitate somebody staggerin' over the room in a struggle, and see if you will land a bull's-eye on one glass. They roll, son. They're as slippery as eels. And when you discover the probabilities of your breakin' not one glass, but two at the same time, I think you'll find that the old man's right. Did I hear somebody say we're not any better off than we were before. Now, about these chimneys…"
They had not heard the door to the drawing-room open, or any steps there. But they felt a cold current of air, which stirred the ashes in the fireplace, and (as Bennett could see from the corner of his eye) the sheet over Marcia Tait's body. There was something so eerie about it that for a moment nobody turned round. It was like the thin voice which spoke across the room.
"So," said the voice, "somebody has thought of the chimney at last? I must congratulate him."
Maurice Bohun, his throat swathed round in a wool muffler, and a raffish-looking tweed cap pulled over one eye, stood leaning on his stick in the doorway. His glazed stare wandered over to the figure on the bed; then he removed the cap with a gently satiric gesture, and became all deprecation. Behind him towered a bewildered and savage-looking Masters, who was making signals over his shoulder.
"But even if it has already occurred to you, which is surprising," said Maurice, with a curious snap of his jaws, "I think I can supply more complete details than anyone. Do you mind coming into the other room. I–I cannot stand the sight of death!"
He backed away suddenly.
"Mind, sir," Masters said over his shoulder, and appealing violently to H. M. "I don't say I believe this. I don't say it's true. But if you'll listen to what Mr. Bohun has to say…" "My humblest thanks, inspector."