“No, I won't do that, thank you, sir. But I find all you're saying very interesting—speaking as a professional. Speaking as an amateur, why do you feel you ought to be the culprit?”
Gavin regarded him with approval. “You're restoring my shaken faith in the police-force, Chief Inspector. Or are you merely humouring me?”
“Oh, no, sir! It isn't every day I meet one of you gentlemen who write about crime, and I'd like to know how a real crime strikes you.”
“Disappointingly. There is nothing to solve except the comparatively uninteresting matter of the identity of the murderer. No hermetically sealed room, no unusual weapon, too few seemingly unshakeable alibis.”
“Well, I think the identity of the murderer is far more interesting than those other things.” objected Abby. “Fascinating, when one actually knows all the people!” she added naively.
“Ah, yes, but you, my sweet, are a female! Persons are more interesting to you than problems, will you mind very much if the guilty man proves to be some quite low, insignificant creature you've never even heard of?”
“No, of course I shan't. I should be glad, but I've got a feeling that won't happen.”
“I have the greatest respect for womanly intuition; I have a great deal of it myself. But doesn't yours inform you that I am a person easily capable of performing a murder?”
“No, of course not!” Abby said, flushing.
“Then it is underdeveloped. I assure you that I am.”