“No, sir,” Flamborough confessed, rather doubtfully.
“Well, taking the possible ways of two people dying one or other of three different deaths, there are nine different arrangements. We'll write them down.”
He drew a sheet of paper towards him, scribbled on it for a moment or two, and then slid it across the table towards the Inspector. Flamborough bent over and read as follows:
| Hassendean | Mrs. Silverdale |
|---|---|
| 1.—Accident | Accident |
| 2.—Suicide | Suicide |
| 3.—Murder | Murder |
| 4.—Accident | Suicide |
| 5.—Suicide | Accident |
| 6.—Accident | Murder |
| 7.—Murder | Accident |
| 8.—Suicide | Murder |
| 9.—Murder | Suicide |
“Now, since in that table we've got every possible arrangement which theoretically could occur,” Sir Clinton continued, “the truth must lie somewhere within the four corners of it.”
“Yes, somewhere,” said Flamborough in an almost scornful tone.
“If we take each case in turn, we'll get a few notions about what may have happened,” Sir Clinton pursued, unmoved by the Inspector's obvious contempt for the idea. “But let's be clear on one or two points to start with. The girl, so far as one can see at present, died from poison and was shot in the head after death. Young Hassendean died from pistol-shots, of which there were two. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” Flamborough conceded without enthusiasm.
“Then let's take the cases as we come to them. Case 1: The whole thing was accidental. To fit that, the girl must have swallowed a fatal dose of poison, administered by mischance either by herself or by someone else; and young Hassendean must either have shot himself twice by accident—which sounds unlikely—or else some third party unintentionally shot him twice over. What do you make of that?”
“It doesn't sound very convincing, sir.”