“In other words,” Mason said, “having arrived at the conclusion Helen Monteith murdered Fremont C. Sabin at eleven o’clock in the morning, on Tuesday, the sixth of September, you have interpreted all the evidence on the premises to support your conclusions; but a fair and impartial appraisement indicates that Fremont C. Sabin was murdered sometime around four o’clock in the afternoon of Monday, September the fifth, and that the murderer, knowing that it would be some time before the body was discovered, took steps to throw the police off the track and manufacture a perfect alibi by the simple expedient of going down to the stream, catching a limit of fish, the afternoon before the season opened, and leaving those fish in the creel.
“And in order to justify that conclusion, Sergeant, you don’t have to disregard any ‘insignificant’ details. In other words, there were fresh sheets on the bed, because the bed had not been slept in. The alarm clock ran down at two forty-seven because the murderer left the cabin at approximately six-twenty o’clock in the afternoon, at which time he wound the alarm clock, after having carefully planted all the other bits of evidence. The reason the alarm which went off at five-thirty the next morning wasn’t shut off is because the only occupant of that cabin was dead. And the reason the murderer was so solicitous about the welfare of the parrot was that he wanted the parrot to perjure itself by reciting the lines which the murderer had been at some pains to teach it — ‘Put down that gun, Helen... don’t shoot... My God, you’ve shot me.’ The fire was laid in the fireplace because Sabin hadn’t had reason to light it that afternoon. He was wearing a sweater because the sun had just got off the roof and it was cooling off, but he was murdered before it had become cool enough to light the fire.
“Sabin let the murderer in, because the murderer was someone whom he knew, yet Sabin had reason to believe he was in some danger. He had secured a gun from his wife, in order to protect himself. The murderer also had a gun which he intended to use, but after he entered the cabin he saw this derringer lying on the table near the bed, and he immediately realized the advantage of killing Sabin with that gun rather than with the one he’d brought. The murderer had only to pick it up and shoot. Now then, Sergeant, will you kindly tell me what is wrong with that theory? Will you kindly interpret any of the evidence to indicate that it is erroneous, and will you please explain to the jury why your whole fine-spun thread of accusation depends on nothing stronger than a string of fish?”
Sergeant Holcomb squirmed uncomfortably in his chair, then blurted out, “Well, I don’t believe Steve Watkins did it. That’s just an out you’ve thought of to protect Helen Monteith.”
“But what’s wrong with that theory?” Mason asked.
“Everything,” Sergeant Holcomb asserted.
“Point out one single inconsistency between it and the known facts.”
Sergeant Holcomb suddenly started to laugh. “How,” he demanded, “could Sabin have been killed at four o’clock in the afternoon of Monday, the fifth of September, and yet call his secretary on the long distance telephone, at ten o’clock in the evening of the fifth, and tell him everything was okay?”
“He couldn’t,” Mason admitted, “for the very good reason that he didn’t.”
“Well, that shoots your theory full of holes,” Sergeant Holcomb announced triumphantly. “... Er... that is...”