“What about Case F, sir? She suicided and he was murdered. If she suicided, it was a premeditated affair—otherwise they wouldn't have had the hyoscine at hand. But if it was one of these lovers’ suicide-pacts, they'd have had a dose ready for him as well—and there wasn't a trace of the stuff spilt on the floor or anywhere about the bungalow. Score out Case F, sir?”
“I've no objections to your putting your pencil through it if you like, Inspector, though my reasons are rather different from the ones you give.”
Flamborough looked up suspiciously, but gathered from Sir Clinton's face that there was nothing further to be expected.
“Well, at least that's narrowed down the possibilities a bit,” he said with relief. “You started out with nine possible solutions to the affair—covering every conceivable combination. Now we're down to three.”
He picked up his paper and read out the residual scheme, putting fresh identifying letters to the three cases:
| Hassendean | Mrs. Silverdale |
|---|---|
| X—Suicide | Accident |
| Y—Murder | Accident |
| Z—Suicide | Murder |
“You agree to that, sir?” Flamborough demanded.
“Oh, yes!” Sir Clinton admitted, in a careless tone. “I think the truth probably lies somewhere among those three solutions. The bother will be to prove it.”
At this moment a constable entered the room, bringing some letters and a newspaper in a postal wrapper.
“Come by the next post, as I expected,” the Chief Constable remarked, picking up the packet and removing the wrapper with care. “The usual method of addressing, you see: letters cut from telegraph forms and gummed on to the official stamped wrapper. Well, let's have a look at the news.”