“Now let me think!” said the Vicar, looking harassed. “Dear me, this is very awkward! I wonder—? Excuse me, I'll go and look! Do take a chair!”
Hemingway watched him leave the room, and said, with a resigned sigh: “Yes, I can see this is another rifle which has been allowed to go astray. I think you were responsible for the first, sir.”
“Not unless you consider me responsible for my wife's—misdemeanours, Chief Inspector,” replied Haswell calmly. “Nor can I agree that the rifle in question has gone astray. It is true that it was lent—improperly, of course—to the local plumber, who once got my wife's car to start for her; but it is equally true that he returned it some days ago, since when it has not, to my knowledge, been out of the house.”
“Yes, that's all very well, sir,” retorted Hemingway, “but my information is that it was left hanging about in a cupboard in your cloakroom, so that as far as I can make out anybody could have borrowed it without you being the wiser!”
“Quite so, but may I point out that it was found in that cupboard no later than yesterday evening? While I can—with some difficulty—visualise the possibility of its having been abstracted by one of the people who came to my wife's tennis-party, I am quite unable to arrive at any satisfactory explanation of how anyone knew that there was a rifle at the back of a coat-cupboard, or how he or she could have restored it without having been seen by any member of my household. Have you collected the rifle? My son left it ready for you.”
“No, I didn't, sir, but Sergeant Carsethorn did, which is how I come to know what happened to it.”
Haswell smiled faintly. “You must admit we've kept nothing from you, Chief Inspector!”
“Very open and aboveboard, sir. Is there a door into your cloakroom from the garden?”
“No. The only entrance is through the hall, and the ventilation is by ventilator, above a fixed, frosted-glass window. In fact taking into consideration my son's alibi—there seems really to be only one person who might, without much difficulty, have both removed the rifle from the cupboard, and restored it. Myself, Chief Inspector—as I feel sure you've realised.” He paused, and his smile grew, a tinge of mockery in it. “But I don't think I should have put it back,” he added. “Cliburn, have your sins found you out?”
“They have, they have!” said the Vicar, who had come back into the room, an expression of guilt in his face. “I am exceedingly sorry, Inspector, but I fear I cannot immediately lay my hand upon the weapon. If one could but see the pitfalls set for one's feet! Not but what I am aware that I have erred, well aware of it!”