“That seems pretty clear. Now, just one other point, Mr. Illingworth. Those people, Makepeace, in Ashburton, sent the actual magneto up here to be overhauled. Can you trace it and let me know just what was wrong?”
“Certainly. We have records of every machine which passes through our hands.” He consulted an index, finally withdrawing a card. “This is it. Sent in from John Makepeace, Ashburton, on Monday, twenty-second August. Would that date work in?”
“Yes, that’s all right.”
“We’ve not had another from Makepeace for five years previously, so it must be,” Mr. Illingworth went on, rapidly turning over the cards. “Well, it’s just what we were speaking of. It failed from a short-circuit in the armature winding and it might have been caused purposely or it might not. There was nothing to indicate.”
French rose.
“That’s good enough for me,” he declared.
He felt his brain reel as he considered the contradictory nature of the evidence he was getting. The breakdown of the car had happened, and at a time and place which made it impossible to doubt that it had been deliberately caused. To cause such a breakdown was mechanically impossible. That was the dilemma which confronted him. And the further he probed this contradiction, the more strongly he found its conflicting details confirmed.
In a dream he returned to the Yard, and there with an effort switched his mind off the conundrum and on to the features of his case which had been dealt with from headquarters.
Inspector Tanner, it appeared, had handled these matters, and by a lucky chance French found him just about to leave for home.
“I’ll walk with you,” said French. “I don’t want to delay you, and what’s more to the point, I want to get home myself.”