“Very likely you don't. You didn't think he was the kind of man to cheat his heir either.”
“You don't yet know that he is doing that, sir. And I don't mind telling you I wouldn't want the job of accusing him of such a thing!”
“Well, you haven't got the job. Now, this is Mr. Haswell's spinney—separated from his garden by a wall, as you see. Any amount of cover to be had. We won't follow the path to his gates, but you can see where it runs and you can see that it would have been possible for Miss Warrenby to have got home by pushing through that very straggly hedge into her uncle's grounds.”
The Inspector smiled wryly. “You're forgetting, sir, that you're not to believe a word Mr. Drybeck says.”
“Well, I don't believe many of them,” said Hemingway, climbing over the stile. “Come on! I've got a fancy to take another look at the scene of the crime.”
Together they walked down the lane for some twenty yards, and then climbed the slope on to the common. Fox House had ceased to attract sightseers, and there seemed to be no one about. Hemingway paused by the gorse-clump, and stood looking thoughtfully at the gardens of Fox House. The seat had been removed, but a bare patch in the lawn showed where it had stood.
“I seem to remember that someone told me once you were by way of being a good shot, Horace,” said Hemingway. “How does a man's head, at this range, strike you, as a target?”
The Inspector, whose modest home was made magnificent by the trophies that adorned it, appreciated this, and at once retorted: “It's wonderful, how you discover things no one else has ever heard of, sir! I have done a bit of shooting in my time, and I should consider it a certain target.”
“All right, you win!” said Hemingway, grinning. “Would you call it a certain target for the average shot?”
“I think a man would need to be a good shot, but not necessarily a crack shot. I thought so when I first saw this place, and it's one reason why I've never seriously considered Miss Warrenby. I don't say women aren't good shots: I've known some who were first-class, but they're few and far between, and we've no reason to think Miss Warrenby has ever had a gun in her hand.”