"That theory is not borne out by what we know of him. There was always the possibility that North might have been the murderer, but no one else, except Budd, who does not correspond with the description of the man in evening dress seen last night, has come into the case. And we've been into Fletcher's past fairly thoroughly. A nasty case. The Sergeant said so at the start."
"The unholy," said Glass, his eye kindling, "are like the chaff which the wind driveth away!"
"That'll do," said Hannasyde coldly, terminating the conversation.
When the Sergeant heard, later, that North's innocence was established, he spoke bitterly of resigning from the Force. "The hottest suspect we had, and he must needs go and clear himself !" he said. "I suppose there's no chance his alibis were faked?"
"I'm afraid not, Skipper. They're sound enough. I've been into them. We seem to be left with Neville Fletcher only. He has no alibi for last night. He admits, in fact, that he was in London."
"Well," said the Sergeant judicially, "if it weren't for his work on Ichabod, I'd as soon pinch him as anybody."
"I know you would, but unfortunately there's a snag - two snags. He stated, quite frankly, that he was wearing a dinner jacket suit last night. But he also said that his hat was a black felt. The man we want wore an opera hat."
"That's nothing," said the Sergeant. "He probably made that up."
"I don't think so. No flies on that young man. He said it was the only hat he possessed. I could so easily disprove that, if it weren't true, that I haven't even tried to. What is more, he is either a magnificent actor, or he really didn't know what I was driving at when I questioned him on his movements last night."
"All the same," said the Sergeant, "if North's out, young Neville's the only one who could have done it in the time."