"By Jove!" cried Wimsey; "driven off alone, stopped somewhere, left the gee, sneaked back, met Cathcart, done him in, and toddled home next day with a tale about machinery."
"Or he may even have been to Stapley," put in Parker; "left early or gone late, and put in the murder on the way. We shall have to check the precise times very carefully."
"Hurray!" cried Wimsey. "I think I'll be gettin' back to Riddlesdale."
"I'd better stay here," said Parker. "There may be something from Paris."
"Right you are. Let me know the minute anything comes through. I say, old thing!"
"Yes?"
"Does it occur to you that what's the matter with this case is that there are too many clues? Dozens of people with secrets and elopements bargin' about all over the place—"
"I hate you, Peter," said Lady Mary.