“All right. We’ll be rigid this time. To start with, we can put aside as completely cleared: ourselves, Mr. and Mrs. Dangerfield, Mrs. Brent, Nina, Cynthia, and Eileen Cressage. Do you O.K. that?”
Douglas acquiesced with a nod.
“No doubt in these cases. I’m going on character as much as alibis and so forth. Let’s sit down.”
They found a garden seat which was dry and seated themselves.
“Mrs. Scorton? No motive that I can see. I think she drops out also.”
“Agreed.”
“Then there’s Morchard.” An angry tone came into Westenhanger’s voice. “He’s out of it too. You see why? Well, naturally he was the man Mrs. Brent was getting at. Didn’t you see he offered to give Eileen the money if she’d come to his room? He’d be waiting there for her, not roaming about the house picking up the Talisman. Obvious, I think. Unless . . . Could he have taken it and meant to throw suspicion on her? No, he wouldn’t know she had been out of her room at all that night. No, that’s wrong. We can leave Morchard out of it.”
Douglas kicked angrily at the ground.
“The infernal thing is that one can do nothing to Morchard. The least row would lead to the devil of a scandal, and Eileen would suffer. It’s Freddie’s case over again, only fifty times worse. Our hands are tied.”
“That’s so,” said Westenhanger, shortly. “Let’s go on.”