“You got the licence number wrong,” Bertha Cool said, “and just as a pure coincidence your wrong licence number happened to be that of a man who was also driving a car at that time and was also drunk.”
“You mean that the man — that the Club—”
“That’s exactly what I mean,” Bertha said. “You got hold of a man who happened to have been too drunk at the time to know what he was doing but who realized he might have hit someone. When Mrs. Cranning got in touch with him and told him about the accident, he rang up his insurance carrier and reported to them, and the insurance carrier came dashing out to make the best settlement he could.”
“And you mean this man didn’t hit me at all?”
“Not the one you made the claim against.”
“But that’s impossible!”
“I know it’s impossible,” Bertha observed doggedly, “but it’s exactly what happened.”
“And where does that leave me?”
Bertha said, “It leaves you sitting on top of the world.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”