Flamborough broke off and seemed to think hard for a moment or two.
“That's a fresh line,” he exclaimed suddenly. “I've been assuming all along that either she or young Hassendean used the poison. But it might have been a third party. I never thought of it in that light, sir.”
He pondered again, while Sir Clinton watched his face.
“It might have been someone else altogether, if the poison was a slow-acting one. Someone at Heatherfield perhaps.”
“There was only one available person at Heatherfield just then,” Sir Clinton pointed out.
“You mean the maid, sir? Of course! And that might help to account for her death, too. It might be a case of Judge Lynch, sir. Somebody squaring the account without bothering us about it.”
New horizons seemed to be opening up in the Inspector's mind.
“I'll admit there's something in this method of yours, after all, sir,” he conceded gracefully.
“I like your ‘after all,’ Inspector. But at any rate you seem to find the method suggestive, which is something, at least.”
“It certainly puts ideas into one's mind that one mightn't have thought about otherwise. What about the next case?”