‘In that case,’ said Abbershaw unexpectedly, ‘it will doubtless surprise you to learn that the man employed by Simister to obtain the package had a complete alibi. In fact, it was impossible for him ever to have laid hands upon the dagger.’
‘Impossible?’ The word broke from Whitby’s lips like a cry, but although they were listening to him critically, to not one of them did it sound like a cry of fear. He stared at them, amazement in his eyes.
‘Have you proof of that?’ he said at last.
‘Complete proof,’ said Abbershaw quietly. ‘I think you must reconsider your theory, Doctor Whitby. Consider how you yourself stand, in the light of what I have just said.’
An expression of mild astonishment spread over the insignificant little face. Then, to everybody’s surprise, he laughed.
‘Amateur detectives?’ he said. ‘I’m afraid you’ve had a long ride for nothing, gentlemen. I confess that my position as accessory after the fact is a dangerous one, but then, so is Doctor Abbershaw’s. Consider the likelihood of your suggestion. Have you provided me with a motive?’
‘I suggest,’ said Martin calmly, ‘that your position when von Faber discovered that your prisoner had “eluded your vigilance”, as you call it, would not have been too good.’
Whitby paused thoughtfully.
‘Not bad,’ he said. ‘Not bad at all. Very pretty. But’ – he shook his head – ‘unfortunately not true. My position with Coombe dead was “not good” as you call it. But had Coombe been alive he would have had to face the music, wouldn’t he? It was von Faber’s own fault that I ever left his side at all.’
This was certainly a point which they had not considered. It silenced them for a moment, and in the lull a sound which had been gradually forcing itself upon their attention for the last few moments became suddenly very apparent – the steady droning of an aeroplane engine.