The Chief Constable turned away from the subject.
“You’re depending on there being a fair chance of Polegate getting away with the medallions without being suspected. But when young Chacewater and Miss Rainhill were in the scheme as well as Polegate, suspicion was sure to light on him when the medallions vanished. The other two were certain to tell what they knew about the business.”
Inspector Armadale glanced once more at his notebook in order to refresh his memory of the rhyme.
“That really comes under the final head: ‘Who in the deed did share?’ ” he pointed out.
“Pass along to the next caravan, then, if you wish,” Sir Clinton suggested. “What animals have you in the final cage?”
The Inspector seemed to deprecate his flippancy.
“It’s been very cleverly done,” he said, seriously. “You objected that suspicion was bound to fall on young Polegate; and so it would have done, if he hadn’t covered his tracks so neatly. He’s set every one on the hunt for a gang at work, or at least for an outside criminal. Now I believe it was a one-man show from the start, worked from the inside. Polegate planned the practical joke—that gave him his chance. Then he forced himself forward as the fellow who was to do the actual stealing—and that let him get his hands on the medallions while young Chacewater held the keeper up for him. Without the hold-up of the keeper, the thing was a wash-out. The joke helped young Polegate to enlist innocent assistance.”
“But still suspicion would attach to him,” Sir Clinton objected.
“Yes, except for a false trail,” the Inspector agreed. “But he laid a false trail. Instead of waiting for the switch to be pulled out, he fired his shot from the bay, extinguished the light and then rushed out of the bay and went for the medallions.”
“Well?” said Sir Clinton in an encouraging tone.