Sabin said, “This is something which may be significant, Mr. Mason. I believe you have read in the newspapers of my father’s attachment for his parrot.”
Mason nodded.
“Casanova was a present given to my father by his brother three or four years ago. His brother’s a great parrot fancier, and Dad became very much attached to the bird. It was with him frequently... And the parrot which was found in the cabin with my father’s body, and which the police and everyone else have assumed to be Casanova, is, in fact, not my father’s parrot.”
Mason’s eyes showed keen interest. “You’re certain?” he asked.
“Absolutely certain.”
“May I ask how you know?”
“In the first place,” Sabin said, “the parrot in the cabin is given to profanity, particularly in connection with requests for food. Casanova had never learned to swear.”
“Perhaps,” Mason said, “a change of environment would have been responsible for that. You know, a parrot can pick up...”
“Moreover,” Sabin said, “—and you’ll pardon me if I interrupt you, Mr. Mason, because I am about to mention a point which is irrefutable — Casanova had one claw missing, a claw on his right foot. This parrot does not.”
Mason frowned. “But why the devil,” he asked, “should anyone want to substitute parrots?”