Freddie’s brow was creased with the strain of following the argument.
“Suppose two of the girls were in partnership?”
“I thought of that. It’s possible, but absolutely not probable. I doubt very much whether any two women could collaborate on a proposition like this, but I’m damned sure that no two of these girls could.”
“Then where does that get you?”
“We have to look at the alibis again. And one of them has to be a phony.”
The corrugations deepened on Freddie’s forehead. Simon watched him silently. It was like watching wheels go round. And then a strange expression came into Freddie’s face. He looked at the Saint with wide eyes.
“My God!” he said. “You mean — Lissa...”
Simon didn’t move.
“Yes,” Freddie muttered. “Lissa. Ginny’s got a perfect alibi. She couldn’t have shot at me. You were with her yourself. Esther might have done it if she’d hidden a gun there before. But she was in your room when somebody threw that snake at me. She couldn’t have faked that. And the servants have all gone... The only alibi Lissa has got is that she was the first one to be attacked. But we’ve only got her word for it. She could have staged that so easily.” His face was flushed with the excitement that was starting to obstruct his voice. “And all that criminology of hers... of course... she’s the one who’s always reading these mysteries — she’d think of melodramatic stuff like that snake — she’d have the sort of mind...”
“I owe you an apology, Freddie,” said the Saint, with the utmost candor. “I didn’t think you had all that brain.”