Jones laughed. "It is my business to suppose. I suppose, when the murder was committed, that Lennox was at home. If I am right, he has an alibi which his servant can confirm."
Dunwoodie stared. "Whatever your business may be, it is not to teach me mine."
Jones drew out a cigarette-case. "Let me sit at your feet then. What does Lennox say?"
"How inquisitive you are! But to be rid of you, he——"
"May I smoke?" Jones interrupted.
"Good God, sir! You are not preparing to make a night of it?"
"I have one or two other little matters in hand. But since I may suppose all I like, I take it that Lennox intended to go to the opera, though I fancy also that he had no intention of going to Paliser's box. I suppose that he intended to wait about and go for him hot and heavy when he came out. I suppose also that, while dressing, he changed his mind. And, by the way, isn't there such a writ as a mandamus, or a duces tecum? I would like my paper-cutter returned."
"Confound your paper-cutter! You don't deserve to have me admit it, but Lennox' account of it is that before going on to the opera, he stopped to write a letter to Miss—er—Hum! Ha!"
"Miss Austen?"
"And when he got through it was midnight."