“Perfectly,” answered Bruce.
“Now, then,” the barrister proceeded, thoughtfully puffing at his pipe, “one weak point about my deductions is that they all hang on the question as to whether, at the time of the tragedy, Parrish actually had the silencer on his pistol or not. That is really the acid test of Manderton’s suicide theory. You said, I think, that a rifle fired with the silencer attachment makes no more noise than the sound of a loud sneeze!”
“That’s right,” agreed Bruce; “a sort of harsh, spluttering noise. Not so loud either, Robin. Ph ... t-t-t! Like that!”
“Loud enough to be heard through a door, would you say?”
“Oh, I think so!”
Robin thought intently for a moment.
“Then Mary is the only one who can put us right on that point. Assuming that two shots were fired—and that bullet mark in the rosery is, I think, conclusive on that head—and knowing that she heard the loud report of the one, presumably, if Parrish had the silencer on his automatic, Mary must have heard the muffled report of the other. What it comes to is this, Mary heard the shot fired that killed Parrish. Did she hear the shot he fired at his murderer?”
“By Gad!” exclaimed Bruce Wright impressively, “I believe you’ve got it, Robin! Parrish fired at somebody at the window—a silent shot—and the other fellow fired back the shot that Mary Trevert heard, the shot that killed Parrish. Isn’t that the way you figure it out?”
“Not so fast, young man,” remarked Robin. “Let’s first find out whether Mary actually heard the muffled shot and, if so, when ... before or after the loud report.”
He glanced across at the window and then at Bruce,