It was a fatuous remark—worthy of Margaret herself—and Kenneth sneered that I seemed to have rather funny ideas on the subject of innocence. It was Margaret, however, who ultimately turned the discussion in a more pacific direction. She pointed out that Ethel knew the doctor about ten times as well as the rest of us, but even so she didn’t see how any one could be expected to ignore entirely all the evidence against him. “However,” she concluded, “Mr. Allport as good as said that he thought that he probably did it, but that there may be just an outside chance that he didn’t. Well, for my part, I am quite willing to wait until he has investigated that outside chance,” and she turned to Ralph, asking him what he thought about it.
Ralph paused perceptibly before replying, “There is nothing to be gained by beating about the bush. Allport would not have said what he did if he had much real hope from his outside clue. But, for your sake, Ethel, and because of your father’s practise, I am willing to agree to anything he asks us to do. Honestly, though, as far as the practise is concerned, I can’t see that it makes much difference. This sort of thing can’t be hushed up, you know!”
I protested that if the outside clue proved relevant, it did make all the difference in the world. Then, none besides ourselves need know how heavily Dr. Hanson’s locum-tenens had been involved, and, endeavoring to carry out The Tundish’s request, I concluded with, “For my part, whether this clue leads to anything or not, I shall take a lot of convincing before I can believe that either he or any of the rest of you are poisoners,” but even as I said the words, I was wondering, “If the doctor hasn’t done it, then which of the others has?”
“Right, then now we all know exactly where we are,” Kenneth grumbled. “Ethel and you have quite determined that he is a hero, I know that he’s a blackguard, and the other two know that he is one, but don’t quite like to say so. You had better let the little man know. I can only hope that it won’t be for long, and that you won’t insist on my pretending to be friends.”
“No one but a fool would think you capable of pretending anything,” I retorted, and went in search of Allport.
I had heard him busy with the telephone while we had been making our decision, and I found him talking with the inspector in the drawing-room. He was balancing himself on the curb round the fireplace, and I imagine he had been laying down the law to the local official, who looked annoyed and uncomfortable, and emitted a grunt of emphatic disapproval as I entered the room. Allport was grinning at him, his grotesque little face puckering up in his amusement, and as he came toward me he patted the big man on the back, saying, “Well, that, my big friend, is what I am going to do whether you like it or not.”
The drawing-room at Dalehouse is an exact duplicate of the dining-room, as far as its dimensions are concerned, and with its long Georgian windows, it must, I imagine, have been a difficult room to furnish. Mrs. Hanson had done her best with it, but the deep armchair: and comfortable settee always looked to me out of place and a little apologetic, like a party of chorus girls, who, going to a night club, have landed in a bishop’s palace by mistake. A grand piano stood at right angles to the inside wall. It was little used, and on the top were several family photographs in frames.
I had told Allport that we were ready for him when I interrupted his conversation with the inspector, and he came toward me smiling. I could not help thinking that he was pleased with the inspector’s opposition. When he reached the piano, something caught his eye, however, and I saw his amused expression die away and one of astonishment take its place. Then, to my surprise, he picked up one of the photographs, and after scrutinizing it closely, took it out of its frame and examined the back. Inspector Brown stood watching him from the hearth-rug, and I gazed at him from the doorway. We exchanged an amused glance, his, I fancied, tinged with despair; but, quite unconcerned, Allport put the photograph back in its frame, replaced it carefully on the piano, and bowed to us each in turn with a whimsical smile.
“That is another little puzzle for you,” he said.
I told him of our decision.