“Let us say that he puts the poke in his pocket and hurries along, gloating over his good fortune. At first, he’s so busy endeavoring to put distance between him and the rest of us, that he doesn’t find it convenient to open the poke and examine its contents.
“After a time, he slackens his pace. He pulls the poke from his pocket, opens it, and, to his horror, discovers that it is empty. What is he going to do? He dare not turn back. He has no money. You will remember that Frischette was a person of sudden moods and emotions. He was violent in everything—violently happy or utterly dejected. He feels that there is nothing to do but to take his own life. A few hours later, Burnnel and Emery came along and find his body and the empty poke. Now, what do you think of that for a theory?”
“Sandy,” said Dick, in tones of deep admiration, “you’ve done well. Splendid! Very logical. I’ve almost begun to believe in your theory myself.”
“The trouble is,” sighed Sandy, “it has one very weak point.”
“What is it?” questioned Dick.
“You said just a moment ago that you were under the impression that, when you had the poke in your hand, it contained something; wasn’t quite empty.”
“No,” remembered Dick, “it wasn’t.”
“So all my clever reasoning has been in vain.” Sandy looked despondent. “The circumstances do not fit my theory.”
Another long silence.
“Let’s not discard your theory altogether,” said Dick at length. “Perhaps I can help you out a little. Two minds are better than one, you know. Permit me to offer a suggestion. From what you have said, I gather that your inference is that Creel removed the contents of the poke. Well, perhaps he did.”