The obvious sincerity of this was enough to placate Wendover. He had been cogitating deeply over the Whistlefield affair, and he felt that if he could not suggest a provable solution of the mystery, at least he could bring a reasonable amount of criticism to bear on the available evidence.
“What we have to account for,” he began, “are; first, the murder of the two Shandons; second, the burglary; third, the attack on Ernest Shandon; and, fourth, the so-called hanky-panky with the cheque.”
“That’s correct,” Sir Clinton agreed. “But suppose we leave out the cheque affair at present. We really know nothing definite about it yet.”
Wendover was dissatisfied with this ruling.
“It seems to me an essential part in the scheme of things. Let me put the case as I see it. Hackleton is at the back of the whole affair, I take it; but he’s been employing an agent; and that agent has been going beyond Hackleton’s instructions and has been operating on his own to a certain extent. I think that fits everything in the case.”
Sir Clinton seemed inclined to dispute this conclusion, but he restrained himself and merely nodded to Wendover to continue.
“I see your objection, I think,” the Squire went on. “You meant to say: ‘Why were both the Shandons murdered when it was only Neville’s death that was essential to Hackleton?’ But there’s quite a plausible explanation of that. You can’t hang a man twice. So if a man decides to commit a single murder, he might as well commit two. The punishment’s the same for a quantity. And if he can commit two with equal impunity—as in the Maze—mightn’t it occur to him that two murders would be a stiffer problem than one murder, in these particular circumstances? Isn’t it the double murder that’s giving all the difficulty? Of course it is. If either Shandon had been murdered solus, we’d know at once the line to look up. But at present we don’t. Now why shouldn’t the murderer have seen that very point and utilised it?”
Sir Clinton nodded.
“That’s ingenious, Squire. I’m not ironical.”
“I’d rather choose that solution than any of the other possible ones. If you reject it, you’ve got to assume that two independent murderers, both using the same out-of-the-way method, chose to operate simultaneously. The chances against that are miles too big. Or else you have to believe that two cooperating murderers were at work and that each of them thought he had the right victim in front of him. I can’t quite swallow the notion that this was a cooperative affair. The third solution is that the murderer mistook one brother for the other, killed Roger first, and then had to kill Neville to carry out his instructions. He might have had only a general description of Neville Shandon to go on and may have made a mistake in identity.”
“I doubt if Hackleton would have left any loophole of that sort,” Sir Clinton interrupted. “Neville’s portrait could easily have been bought and given to the murderer. But it’s not worth while arguing the point. The murderer knew the two Shandons perfectly well by sight. I’m sure of my ground there.”
“You mean the murderer was a local man?” demanded Wendover. “How did you find that out?”
“I’m not going to tell you at present, Squire. Sorry to play the mystery-man, and all that sort of stuff; but it has to be done.”
Wendover was plainly distrustful of this point.
“If it was a local affair, what was the black silk thread then? The thread we found in the Maze not a couple of hours ago.”
Sir Clinton closed his eyes as though pondering deeply.
“Yes indeed,” he said oracularly, “what was the silk thread?”
He sat up suddenly and beamed on Wendover.
“I should say it was a clue.”
“Damn your leg-pulling,” the Squire broke out. “I shan’t go on, if you’re going to make the whole thing into a farce.”
Sir Clinton apologised.
“Sorry. You took the wrong meaning out of what I said. But don’t let’s waste time over it. Please go ahead, Squire.”
Only partly mollified, Wendover continued his analysis.
“The next thing is the burglary. That was obviously a case of getting at some document belonging to Neville Shandon. You remember the fragment of notes for his cross-examination that was found in his hand? They got some of his stuff, but clearly they suspected that he might have more notes. So they burgled his room to see if they could find anything further.”
This time Sir Clinton showed no desire to criticise.
“Right! On the face of it, the burglary and the murder of Neville Shandon fit together. But the trouble is that the commission of the burglary would show that it was Neville they were after, and hence make the murder of Roger useless as a blind. I merely point out the snag. I’m not trying to carp, Squire.”
Wendover thought for a minute or more in silence. Then he produced a reply.
“The two murders were part of a pre-devised scheme, as I suggested. But afterwards, the murderer found he hadn’t got the documents complete. He had to get them if possible. So he took the risk of the burglary giving the show away.”
Sir Clinton admitted the possibility of such a case.
“But now what about the attack on Ernest Shandon. How does that fit in?”
“What’s one murder more or less to a man who has two on his soul already? The attack on Ernest may have been an extra blind, simply, like the murder of Roger Shandon. Suppose they’d got Ernest this afternoon, wouldn’t that have tangled the business up still further?”
“Admitted, of course. And really friend Ernest would hardly have been missed. Is that all the theory you have on the point?”
Wendover was rather doubtful about putting forward his second choice.
“It might have been a practical joke, of course. Someone with a sense of humour rather out of gear might have had
