“Both at some time after eleven. George was seen leaving the house at half-past, and Prinsep was seen rather before that time in the garden. Isn’t that so?”
“Then that,” said Joan, “definitely fixes the time of both the murders as being later than say 11.15, and one of them definitely after 11.30. That is something to go upon.”
“Ah, but stop a minute. May not either the people who thought they saw George, or the others who thought they saw John, have been mistaken? Neither of them was seen close to.”
“It doesn’t seem very likely. Winter would hardly have mistaken some one else for George when he saw him going out by the front door.”
“Still, my dear, it’s possible. Winter was at the other end of the hall and only noticed him by accident. He probably caught no more than a glimpse.”
“Yes, Bob; but the other man saw him from quite close. You remember he said he went to open the door for him; but George slipped out before he could get there.”
“Yes, I know; but did the other man know George by sight? He was only a hired waiter, in for the evening. Winter probably told him afterwards it was George, and he took it for granted.”
“I think you’re romancing, my dear. If it wasn’t George, who was it?”
“Surely, Joan, in that case it was the murderer, whoever he may have been.”
Joan sighed. “Follow up that idea of yours by all means,” she said, “but it doesn’t sound to me very hopeful. The people who said they saw John are much more likely to have been mistaken. They only saw him from a window some way off; and it was half dark.”