The detective eased his collar with one powerfully controlled forefinger.
"That's all very clever," he said stubbornly. "But I came here. And Linnet has been murdered. And you're still here."
"Naturally I'm here," said the Saint blandly. "I wanted to see him."
"What for?"
"Because he manufactures electrical gadgets, and he needs iridium, and I heard he'd been buying from the black market. I thought I might persuade him to tell me a thing or two."
"And he wouldn't talk, so you strangled him."
"Yes," said the Saint tiredly. "I tied a string around his larynx to ease his vocal cords."
"And you left your mark on his door."
Simon glanced critically across the hall at the ungainly pattern of chalk lines that Fernack referred to.
"Henry," he said reasonably, "I'm not a hell of an artist, but you've seen some of my early original work. Would you honestly say that that was a typical job of mine? It looks kind of shaky and spavined to me."