“I go by the evidence of Polegate and young Chacewater,” said Sir Clinton, with a faint parody of the Inspector’s manner. “They were taken by surprise when the light went out, although they expected it to be extinguished at 11.45 p.m.”
“Oh, have it your own way, sir, if you lay any stress on the point,” conceded the Inspector. “Make it 11.44 or 11.45; it’s all the same, so far as I’m concerned.”
Armadale seemed slightly ruffled by his chief’s method of approaching the subject. Sir Clinton turned to another side of the matter.
“I suppose you say the crime has been committed in the museum?” he inquired.
The Inspector looked at him suspiciously.
“You’re trying to pull my leg, sir. Of course, it was committed in the museum.”
Sir Clinton’s tone became apologetic.
“I keep forgetting that we’re not talking about the same thing, perhaps. Of course, the theft of the replicas was committed in the museum. We’re quite in agreement there.”
He threw away his cigarette, selected a fresh one, and lighted it before continuing.
“And on that basis, I suppose there’s no mystery about the next query in the rhyme: ‘How done?’ ”