“Supposing Paul Fordingbridge were out of the way, who would oppose the claimant?” Wendover pursued.
“The Fleetwoods,” said the inspector. “They're next in the succession. And Staveley was a witness of some value to the claimant, too, so he was put out of the way. Everything points to the same thing, you see, sir.”
Wendover, bearing in mind the coming fall of the inspector's case, took this side-thrust amiably.
“Let's go on,” he suggested. “There's the Cargill affair.”
“I've got my own ideas about that,” the inspector interjected. “Though I haven't had time to work them up yet.”
“Cargill's about the same build as the claimant,” Wendover continued, without noticing the interruption. “It seems to me quite on the cards that the attack on him was a case of mistaken identity. Or else—of course! He was a good witness for the claimant! He'd met him in the war, you remember. Perhaps that was why he was attacked.”
“I think more of your first notion, sir,” the inspector interrupted, with more than a tinge of approval in his tone. “As I said before, everything points the same way. You find Mrs. Fleetwood mixed up in the whole affair from start to finish.”
Sir Clinton ignored this view of the case, and turned to Wendover.
“Doesn't it seem rather out of proportion when you assume that Paul Fordingbridge would go the length of murder merely in order to keep the claimant out of the money and out of Foxhills?” he inquired gently. “It really seems carrying things a bit too far when you take that as a premise.”
“Well, what better can you suggest?” Wendover demanded.