“And when did you arrive here?”
“About half an hour ago.”
He shook his head and rejoined in an ominously quiet tone:
“That won’t do, Sir. The maid has only just come and the dead woman couldn’t have let you in.”
I explained that I had found the key in the outer door but he made no pretence of accepting the explanation.
“That is well enough,” said he, “if you can prove that the key was in the door. Otherwise it is a mere statement which may or may not be true. The actual position is that I have found you alone in this flat with the body of a woman who has died a violent death. You will have to account satisfactorily for your presence here at this time in the morning, and for your movements up to the time of your arrival here.”
The very equivocal, not to say perilous, position in which I suddenly found myself served to steady my wits. I realized instantly how profoundly suspicious the appearances really were and that if I could not produce evidence of my recent arrival I should quite probably have to meet the charge of being an accessory to the suicide. And an accessory to suicide is an accessory to murder. It was a very serious position.
“Have you seen your man yet?” I asked. “The men, I mean, who were on observation duty outside.”
“I have seen them, but I haven’t spoken to them. They are waiting out on the landing now. Why do you ask?”
“Because I think they saw me come in here.”