“Is that Dobell, the Sydney detective, that took your last chance from you?”
“Yes, that’s the man.”
“Then, in my opinion, he’s a fool! If he said it was the woman did it, then you can make up your mind he is wrong. Is it likely, now, that a woman that wanted to kill her husband, would get a dagger and stab him in his sleep? Suppose I wanted to kill you now, should I go about it like that? No indeed! I should buy some ‘Rough on Rats,’ or something of that kind, and put it in your tea. That is our way. It is only women on the stage that use knives or daggers. You take my advice, and pay no attention at all to what that Dobell says. That woman no more committed that deed than I did myself.”
“But you were positive only five minutes ago that she had!”
“I said no such thing, and if you were not the most aggravating man in the world you would not dare to say so. That is always your way. Trying to make out I contradict myself, when you are too daft to know what to say. If you would only take my advice for once you would—”
“What?”
“Just do a bit of detective work on the quiet. This affair will make a great noise, and the man who finds out the riddle will not be that thick-head Dobell, take my word for it. While all these wiseacres are busy over the woman, you just take another track. Hunt up their history, hers and his. You say that there was no robbery. If so, what was it done for? Who would his death benefit? Trust a woman’s judgment. I’d back her to find more out about a case in five minutes than one of you tall muddle-heads in a week.”
“It’s all very well to talk, Bell. If it comes to that I give you best. But how should a woman who has never been out of Sydney in her life understand these things? Now, I have had the advantage of a University education in the metropolis of the world—a B.A. of London.”
“Well, Mr. B.A., if you are so clever just go into the back yard and chop some wood for the stove if you expect to have your tea.”
The B.A. went, and as he chopped he inwardly resolved that the advice of his wife was good; that much might be gained and nothing lost by following it. Of a truth, that Dobell did hold his nose a trifle too high—a man who could not construe a page of Latin to save his life.