Unfortunately she wasn't quite insane enough to be certifiable; therefore only the second alternative remains. But not a one of the people who had a material motive for her removal had the moral guts to effect it.
'Along comes Colin Nicolson, judicial, sympathetic, strong - minded, clear - sighted enough to see right through shibboleths, and courageous enough to act on his own judgment. He knows that laws were made for man, but he knows too that some people put themselves outside those laws. He is socialistic enough to believe that the security of the majority demands the sacrifice of the individual. He is intelligent enough to realize that it is hardly possible that suspicion can ever fall on him, and that he is taking very little risk. He is sorry, of course, that what he conceives to be his duty should require of him anything so drastic, and he is sorry, too, for Mrs. Stratton; but he is a great deal more sorry for the people whose lives might be ruined if Mrs. Stratton is allowed to go on living. And so . . .'
'Well, well,' said Colin calmly. 'But I'm not sure you've got my character so well. I'm afraid I'm not so noble as all that, Roger. It all sounded to me much more like you.'
'It did rather, didn't it?' said Roger, not without surprise. 'Anyhow, you see what I mean?'
'Oh, yes,' said Colin slowly. 'I see that.' He sat for a moment in thoughtful silence and then lifted his stocky bulk to its feet.
'Going down again?' Roger asked.
'No, back in a minute.'
Colin went out of the sun parlour and up onto the roof. Through the glass wall Roger saw him walk across the roof and come to a halt under the gallows. With his hands in his pockets, he seemed to be staring at the chair which had been the cause of all the talk. Then Roger saw him take a large white silk handkerchief out of his breast pocket and thoroughly wipe over the back, rails, and seat of the chair. After that he walked, in his unhurried way, back to the sun parlour.
'What on earth . . .' said Roger, in bewilderment not unmixed with apprehension.
Colin looked at him with some severity. 'The trouble with you, Roger,' he said, 'is that you talk a jolly sight too much.'
'Talk?'
'Yes. In the circumstances, I should keep my mouth shut, if I were you. How on earth did you know I was safe? I might not have been.'
'My dear Colin, what on earth are you talking about? And what were you doing with that chair?'
'Wiping your fingerprints off,' Colin said calmly, 'just in case you'd forgotten to do so yourself.'
'Wiping my . . .'
'Yes. You see, I happen to know that chair wasn't under the gallows at all when we first came up on the roof. It was in the middle somewhere. I know, because I almost fell over it and barked my shin rather nastily. If I were you, I wouldn't tell anyone else you moved it. It might look fishy.'
'But I didn't . . .'
'Yes, you did, in so many words. I tell you, Roger, you talk too much. If I were you, I wouldn't sound anyone else about suicide or murder. In fact, I wouldn't say a word about the case at all. It's too dangerous, man. Of course I know you've probably got an urge to talk about it, but you must just shut it down. I won't give you away, of course, and I suppose really it was a pretty good thing for you to have done; but you can't bank on everyone else, you know.'
'I don't think there was any risk, really,' Roger said feebly, somewhat taken aback by this severity and cursing himself for having underestimated Colin's shrewdness.
'No risk!' Colin snorted. 'It's all very well to talk of spiritual motives and no suspicion and all that, but if you think you can get away with murder without any risk, and then go boasting about it, you'll soon find your own neck in the same place as you put Mrs. Stratton's.'
'Is it the least good,' Roger said desperately, 'for me to go on telling you that I did not murder Mrs. Stratton?'
'I'll believe you, of course,' Colin said, without the least trace of credulity in his voice.
'Thank you, Colin,' Roger said bitterly.
'And in any case,' Colin added, 'I told you I wouldn't give you away.'
Roger began all over again.
'Well, anyhow,' Colin said judicially, 'someone murdered her.'
'I know someone did! My goodness, I wish I'd never moved that blessed chair. This is what comes of trying to do someone a good turn.'
'Even in that case,' said Colin smugly, 'it's a pretty serious thing, you know, monkeying about with evidence.'
'But dash it all, man, the woman deserved murdering! I know that in theory it's a shocking thing to shield a murderer. But this case is exceptional. Whoever did such a good deed deserves shielding. You'd have done the same yourself.'
'I would not,' said Colin with decision. 'I've told you I'll hold my tongue, but that's as far as I'd go. I wouldn't fake the evidence. The game wouldn't be worth the candle. I wouldn't risk my neck to get other people out of their own troubles.'
'Risk your neck?'
'It would make me an accessory after the fact, wouldn't it? And the legal penalty for that is the same as for murder. I suppose, by the way,' Colin added uneasily, 'that I'm an accessory after some sort of fact now. Why on earth couldn't you hold your tongue, Roger? I should never have guessed if you hadn't given yourself away. I was a fool, though, too, to let you know I had guessed.'
'But I keep on telling you I didn't murder the woman!'
'I know you do,' said Colin. 'And I keep on telling you that I won't give you away.'
'Oh, hell!' said Roger.
There was an unhappy little silence.
'My dear Colin, you can't possibly pretend there's a case against me,' Roger said, almost plaintively.
'Do you want me to show you the case against you?'
'I'd love you to,' Roger said bitterly.
'Well, man, you told me the motive yourself. It was silly to pretend it was a motive for me, because it isn't. I'm not nearly high - minded enough to take a risk like that for someone I hardly know. And I might add that I'm not officious enough, either, to meddle in other people's affairs to such an extent as that. But you are, Roger, if you want me to be candid. You're the most officious person I know, and the most self - confident. If anyone in this world could commit an entirely spiritual, altruistic, infernally officious murder, it's you.'
'Thank you, Colin,' said Roger, without gratitude.
'Well, I'm just applying your own methods.'
'And all you've proved is that I might possibly be said to have a motive, out of having no motive at all. What sort of proof do you call that? The small fact that I had no opportunity at all just doesn't concern you, I suppose?'
'Opportunity!' Colin exclaimed. 'Well, if you hadn't the opportunity, I don't know who had.'
'When did I have an opportunity?' Roger demanded, astonished.
'Mrs. Stratton was found on the roof, wasn't she? So it's a reasonable inference that she was on the roof, or in here, all the time after she left the ballroom. In fact, as no one saw her again, it's more than a reasonable inference that she was up here. It's almost a dead certainty. You'll agree with that, I suppose?'
'Yes, I do,' Roger said defiantly. 'Well?'
'Well, so far as I know, you were the only person, during the time she was missing, who was up here too.'
'What!'
'After you'd been consoling poor wee David at the bar, didn't you come straight up here when I joined the two of you?' asked Colin calmly.
'Good - good lord!' exclaimed Roger, thunder - struck.
It was perfectly true. The advent of Colin had given Roger the excuse to slip away. The conversation with David had, in the circumstances, been somewhat forced; and Roger felt that the enormous log fire was making the room not only uncomfortably hot but much too smoky. He had gone up onto the roof and stood for a few minutes
