“On the other hand, suppose the boot's on the other foot. Assume that Paul Fordingbridge had some very strong reason for wishing to retain control over the funds, and see where that leads you. Remember that he showed no desire whatever to investigate this claim. He simply denied straight off that the claimant was his nephew, without waiting for any evidence on the point. That seemed to me a curious attitude in a trustee; perhaps it struck you in the same way. And he appeared to be very little put out by Peter Hay's death, if you remember—treated it very much as a matter of course. It doesn't take much thinking to see that what holds good for a fraudulent claimant would hold good for a fraudulent trustee also. The diary and Peter Hay would be two weak spots for him too. They'd help a genuine nephew to establish an almost irrefutable case if he could pass tests applied both by the diary and by Peter Hay's recollections.
“So, whichever way one looked at it, there seemed to be something to be said. And, consequently, I got no further at that stage than being able to say that three things were possible. First, the claimant might be a fraud, and Paul Fordingbridge merely an obstinate old beggar. Second, the claimant might be genuine, and Paul might be a dishonest trustee. Or, third, both the claimant and Paul might be wrong 'uns.
“Miss Fordingbridge had known her nephew intimately, and she had identified him straight off, it's true. But we've heard of that kind of thing before. You remember how Roger Tichborne's mother identified Arthur Orton as her son, and stuck to it through thick and thin. Hallucinations of that sort do occur. And one couldn't help noticing Miss Fordingbridge's talk about spiritualism and so forth, all tending to show that she had a sort of fixed idea that her nephew would turn up sooner or later. That discounted the value of her identification a good deal, but it didn't discredit it completely, of course.
“Now go back a stage. The thing was a two-man job at Peter Hay's. Therefore, whether the claimant or Fordingbridge was our man, we had to find a second fellow for the accomplice's part. The claimant we knew nothing about at that stage; and I proposed to look into his affairs later. If Paul Fordingbridge was one of the murderers, on the other hand, then, who was his accomplice? ‘Cui bono?’ again. If the claimant could be kept out of the succession, who was next on the list? Stanley Fleetwood's wife.”
Careless of the inspector's feelings, Wendover broke out at this point:
“You won't persuade me you were such an ass, Clinton, as to suppose that young Fleetwood helped in a murder merely for the sake of cash or any other reason?”
“It wasn't my business to make pets of anyone, and exclude them from suspicion merely because I liked them in private life, squire. Many murderers are most amiable persons—Crippen, for example. ‘A fair field and no favour’ is the only motto for a conscientious detective.
“Before we had time to delve further into the Peter Hay case, however, the Staveley murder occurred. There's no need to go into the whole business; it's fresh in your minds; but I'll tell you the main points that struck me when we'd finished our examination of the scene of the murder.
“First, Staveley had banged his wrist and stopped his watch at 11.19. But, of course, that didn't prove he'd been killed at that moment. Second, his clothes were wet under his rainproof; and, he'd been shot through both rainproof and jacket, it must have rained before he was shot. Third, since the car-tracks had gone back on a dry road for a while before the rain came on and made them clearer, Staveley was killed after the car had gone off; and the people in the car weren't mixed up in the actual killing. Fourth, there was only one cartridge-case to be seen—the one on the rock. There was no cartridge-case at the groyne when I searched the place. Besides, that track at the groyne belonged to the man in the car, and he was cleared completely by the rain question. If I was right in my inferences, then the murder must have been committed by one of three people: the woman with the neat shoes, Billingford, or someone who had left no tracks on the sand.
“The letter we found in Staveley's pocket showed the business; and you worked up the case against them that Mrs. Fleetwood had been to meet him on the previous night at the rock; and, as she was acting in conjunction with a man, there wasn't much trouble in inferring that young Fleetwood might have been on the spot also, as soon as we heard that the Fleetwoods' car had been out all night: You, inspector, jumped to the conclusion that the Fleetwoods were at the back of the business; and you worked up the case against them very convincingly. But, as I told you at the start, the case wasn't sound. I wanted all the data I could get, of course, so I didn't discourage you too much; and you eventually dragged out a lot of interesting material about the events of the night.