Nor, evidently, was I alone the subject of these difficulties and bewilderments. The Superintendent walked with corrugated brows and an air of profound cogitation, and even Usher—when he could detach his thoughts from the juvenile choir at the funeral—was obviously puzzled. In fact, it was he who opened the discussion as the carriage moved off.
“This job,” he observed with conviction, “is what the sporting men would call a fair knock-out. I can’t make head nor tail of it. You talk of the late Mr. Crile being at large and perfectly happy. But the late Mr. Crile died of cancer of the pancreas. I attended him in his illness. There was no doubt about the cancer, though I wouldn’t swear to the pancreas. But he died of cancer all right. I saw him dead; and, what is more, I helped to put him into that coffin. What do you say to that, Dr. Thorndyke?”
“What is there to say?” was the elusive reply. “You are a competent observer, and your facts are beyond dispute. But inasmuch as Mr. Crile was not in that coffin when we opened it, the unavoidable inference is that after you had put him in, somebody else must have taken him out.”
“Yes, that is clear enough,” rejoined Usher. “But what has become of him? The man was dead; that I am ready to swear to. But where is he?”
“Yes,” said Miller. “That is what is bothering me. There has evidently been some hanky-panky. But I can’t follow it. It isn’t as though we were dealing with a supposititious body. There was a real dead man. That isn’t disputed—at least, I take it that it isn’t.”
“It certainly is not disputed by me,” said Thorndyke.
“Then what the deuce became of him? And why, in the name of blazes, was he taken out of the coffin? That’s what I want to know. Can you tell me, Doctor? But there! What is the good of asking you? Of course you know all about it! You always do. But it is the same old story. You have got the ace of trumps up your sleeve, but you won’t bring it out until it is time to take the trick. Now isn’t that the position, Doctor?”
Thorndyke’s impassive face softened with a faint, inscrutable smile.
“We hold a promising hand, Miller,” he replied quietly; “but if the ace is there, it is you who will have the satisfaction of playing it. And I hope to see you put it down quite soon.”
Miller grunted. “Very well,” said he. “I can see that I am not going to get any more out of you than that; so I must wait for you to develop your plans. Meanwhile I am going to ask Dr. Usher for a signed statement.”