"If the murder was committed with the wire from that picture, it was not Poulton that did it!" he said.
Hemingway's eyes came to rest on his face. "Oh, wasn't it?" he said. "Why not?"
"Och, would he take down the picture and remove the wire from it under the poor lady's very eyes?" demanded the Inspector.
"Certainly not. What makes you so sure she was in this room with him the whole time he was here?"
The Inspector stared at him. "But - !" He was silent, suddenly, frowning over it.
"Going a bit too fast, Sandy. All we know is what Thrimby and Poulton himself told us. According to Thrimby, he arrived here at about 6.25; according to both of them, he left at a quarter-to-seven. That gave him twenty minutes, during which time only he and Mrs. Haddington knew what happened. We have only his word for it they were together in the boudoir throughout. I admit, it doesn't seem likely she'd have left the room, but she might have: we don't know."
"Well," said the Inspector slowly, "supposing she left him to fetch something - it would not have given him much time, would it?"
"No, it wouldn't, and one would say he'd have wanted a bit of time to find that string - if it was that string and those scissors which were used! I don't say I think it was Poulton, but I do say it's still a possibility, and one we won't lose sight of. Setting him aside for the moment, who are we left with? I don't think it was Miss Birtley: I've considered her case carefully, and I don't see how she could have got to Earl's Court and back in the time. There's young Butterwick, who dashed out of the house leaving his stick behind him; and there's Lord Guisborough, who also went off in a rage, slamming the door behind him. Neither was actually seen to leave the premises; either, I suppose, could have concealed himself somewhere - in the cloakroom, say - until the coast was clear, and then slipped up to this room, and waited for Mrs. Haddington to come in. Look at those windows! They're both in slight embrasures, and you see how the thick curtains would shut off the whole embrasure. Plenty of room for a man to stand behind them, and I'll bet they were drawn by tea-time. Now tell me what possible reason either of those two can have for murdering Mrs. Haddington, and we shall both be happy! And don't say Guisborough did it because she flung his birth in his teeth, and he was touchy, because I don't like tall stories, and never did!"
"It could not have been the doctor?" Inspector Grant said doubtfully.
"You've got him on the brain!"