“Well, tell me this, then,” Alec said suddenly. “Why the dickens didn’t Jefferson get the documents out of the safe directly after Stanworth’s death, instead of waiting till the next morning and getting so agitated about it?”
“Yes, I thought of that. Presumably because they were both so flustered at what had happened that they forgot all about the documents in their anxiety to cover up their traces and get away.”
Alec sniffed slightly. “Rather unlikely that, isn’t it? Not natural, as you’re always so fond of saying.”
“Unlikely things do happen sometimes, however. This one did, for instance.”
“Then you’re absolutely convinced that Jefferson killed Stanworth, and that’s how it all happened, are you?”
“I am, Alexander.”
“Oh!”
“Well, aren’t you?”
“No,” Alec said uncompromisingly. “I’m not.”
“But dash it all, I’ve proved it to you. You can’t shove all my proofs on one side in that offhand way. The whole thing stands to reason. You can’t get away from it.”
“If you say that Jefferson killed Stanworth,” Alec proceeded with obstinate deliberation, “then I’m perfectly sure you’re wrong. That’s all.”
“But why?”
“Because I don’t believe he did,” said Alec, with an air of great wisdom. “He’s not the sort of fellow to do a thing like that. I suppose I’ve got a sort of intuition about it,” he added modestly.
“Intuition be hanged!” Roger retorted, with a not unjustified irritation. “You can’t back your blessed intuition against proofs like the ones I’ve just given you.”
“But I do,” Alec said simply. “Every time,” he added, with a careful attention to detail.
“Then I wash my hands of you,” said Roger shortly.
For a time they paced side by side in silence. Alec appeared to be pondering deeply, and Roger was undisguisedly huffy. After all, it is a little irksome to solve in so ingenious yet so convincing a way a problem of such apparently mysterious depth, only to be brought up against a blank wall of disbelief founded on so unstable a foundation as mere intuition. One’s sympathy is certainly with Roger at that moment.
“Well, anyhow, what are you going to do about it?” Alec asked, after some minutes’ reflection. “Surely you’re not going to tell the police without troubling to verify anything further, are you?”
“Of course not. In fact, I haven’t made up my mind whether I shall tell the police at all yet.”
“Oh!”
“It depends largely on what the two of them—Jefferson and Mrs. Plant—have to tell me.”
“So you’re going to tackle them about it, are you?”
“Of course.”
There was another short silence.
“Are you going to see them together?” Alec asked.
“No, I shall speak to Mrs. Plant first, I think. There are one or two minor points I want to clear up before I see Jefferson.”
Alec reflected again. “I shouldn’t, Roger, if I were you,” he said quite earnestly.
“Wouldn’t what?”
“Speak to either of them about it. You’re not at all sure whether you’re really right or not; after all, it’s only guesswork from beginning to end, however brilliant guesswork.”
“Guesswork!” Roger repeated indignantly. “There isn’t any guesswork about it! It’s—”
“Yes, I know; you’re going to say it’s deduction. Well, you may be right or you may not; the thing’s too deep for me. But shall I tell you what I think about it? I think you’d be wise to drop the whole thing just as it is. You think you’ve solved it; and perhaps you have. Why not be content with that?”
“But why this change of mind, Alexander?”
“It isn’t a change of mind. You know I’ve never been keen on it from the very beginning. But now that Stanworth’s turned out to be such a skunk, why—”
“Yes, I see what you mean,” Roger said softly. “You mean that if Jefferson did kill Stanworth, he was perfectly right to do so and we ought to let him get away with it, don’t you?”
“Well,” Alec said awkwardly, “I wouldn’t go so far as to say that, but—”
“But I don’t know that I wouldn’t,” Roger interrupted. “That’s why I said just now that I hadn’t decided whether I’d tell the police or not. It all depends on whether things did happen as I imagine, or not. But the thing is, I must find out.”
“But must you?” Alec said slowly. “As things are at present, whatever you may think, you don’t actually know. And if you do find out for certain, it seems to me that you’ll be deliberately saddling yourself with a responsibility which you might wish then that you hadn’t been so jolly eager to adopt.”
“If it comes to that, Alec,” Roger retorted, “I should have said that to take no steps to find out the truth now we’re so near it is deliberately to shirk that very responsibility. Wouldn’t you?”
Alec was silent for a moment.
“Hang that!” he said with sudden energy. “Leave things as they are, Roger. There are some things of which it’s better that everyone should remain in ignorance. Don’t go and find out a lot of things that you’d give anything afterwards not to have discovered.”
Roger laughed lightly. “Oh, I know it’s the right thing to say, ‘Who am I to take the responsibility of judging you? No, it is not for me to do so. I will hand you over to the police, which means that you will inevitably be hanged. It’s a pity, because my personal opinion is that your case is not murder, but justifiable homicide; and I know that a jury, directed by a judge with his eye on the asinine side of the law, would never be allowed to take that view. That’s why I so much regret having myself to place a halter round your neck by handing you over to the police. But how is such a one as me to judge you?’ That’s what they always say in storybooks, isn’t it? But don’t you worry, Alec. I’m not a spineless nincompoop like that, and I’m not in the least afraid of taking
