She nodded. "Yes, and he was whistling. I heard his step on the gravel path. He was strolling, I think, not hurrying at all."
"I see. Thank you."
Sally saw that he was frowning a little, and said shrewdly: "You don't like my sister's evidence, Superintendent?"
"I wouldn't say that," he answered evasively.
Just a moment," said Neville, who had been jotting some notes down on the back of an envelope. "Do you think I could have done this? 10.01, my uncle alive and kicking; 10.02, man seen making off down Maple Grove; 10.05, my uncle discovered dead. Who was the mysterious second man? Did he do it? Was I he? And if so, why? Actions strange and apparently senseless. I shall resist arrest."
"No question of arrest," announced Sally. "There's no case against you. If you did it, what was your weapon?"
Neville pointed a long finger at Hannasyde. "The answer is in the Superintendent's face, loved one. The paper-weight! The paper-weight which I myself introduced into the plot."
Hannasyde remained silent. Sally replied: "Yes, I see that. But if you had murdered Ernie, it would have taken some nerve to make the police a present of your weapon."
"Yes, wouldn't it?" he agreed. "I should have stuttered with fright. Besides, I don't see the point. What would I do it for?"
"Oh, the overweening conceit of the murderer!" said Sally. "That's a well-known feature of the homicidal mind, isn't it, Superintendent?"