“True. I suppose that satisfies you—along with the faked visiting-card which was meant to impress her with the fact that a high official had descended on her—that I personally wasn't mixed up in the business. I've the best of reasons for knowing that myself, of course, since I know I was elsewhere at the time. But what do you make of the raid?”
“Documents were what the man was after, obviously, sir.”
“It seems clear enough that he expected to get hold of something compromising amongst her correspondence. If you ask me, Inspector, Mr. Justice doesn't seem to stick at much in his self-appointed task.”
“I was pretty sure it was some of his work, sir. The Deepcar girl and Silverdale had a common interest in getting Mrs. Silverdale out of the way; there's no doubt about that. And some people are perfect fools in what they put down on paper. It's quite on the cards that Mr. Justice thought he might find something useful amongst Silverdale's letters to Avice Deepcar.”
“He evidently found something which he thought worth taking away, at any rate,” Sir Clinton pointed out. “I had a notion that once you arrested Silverdale, things would begin to move faster. If Mr. Justice has got hold of any evidence, it'll be in our hands before long, I'm prepared to bet.”
“He's saving us some trouble, if there is anything in writing,” the Inspector said, with a grin. “We would hardly have raided the Deepcar house on such a long chance as that; and he's done the job for us.”
“A most useful and altruistic person, evidently,” Sir Clinton commented ironically. “Now what about the rest of the affair, Inspector? If you accept Miss Deepcar's evidence, then the bottom's out of your case against Silverdale. He couldn't be with her and at the bungalow simultaneously.”
“Why should we accept her evidence at all?” Flamborough demanded crossly. “She had as much interest in getting Mrs. Silverdale out of the way as Silverdale himself had. Their interests are absolutely at one in the affair. It's more than an even chance that she was his accomplice in the business—standing ready with this tale of hers to prove an alibi for him. I don't reckon her statement was worth that!”
He snapped his fingers contemptuously.
“There's something else, sir,” he continued. “This Mrs. Marple wasn't at the house that night. What evidence is there that Silverdale and the Deepcar girl ever went home at all after they'd dined down town? There's no corroboration of that story. Why not assume that the Deepcar girl was an actual accomplice on the spot? She and Silverdale may have driven out to the bungalow after dinner, and she may have stood at the window during the whole affair. There's nothing against that, if you discount her story. My reading of the Deepcar girl is that she may be surface-shy, so to speak, but she's got good strong fibre in her character underneath. Look how she faced up to you not ten minutes ago. Not much shyness about that.”