‘It must be suicide,’ she said. ‘I was in the garden with Roger when we heard the shot. We both ran straight in through the drawing-room to the hall. The study door was locked on the inside. We went round to the window. That was fastened also and Roger had to smash it. It wasn’t till then that Nicholson appeared upon the scene.’ Bobby reflected upon this information.
‘It looks all right,’ he agreed. ‘But Nicholson seems to have appeared on the scene very suddenly.’ ‘He’d left a stick behind earlier in the afternoon and had come back for it.’ Bobby was frowning with the process of thought.
‘Listen, Frankie. Suppose that actually Nicholson shot Bassington-ffrench ‘ ‘Having induced him first to write a suicide’s letter of farewell?’ ‘I should think that would be the easiest thing in the world to fake. Any alteration in handwriting would be put down to agitation.’ ‘Yes, that’s true. Go on with your theory.’ ‘Nicholson shoots Bassington-ffrench, leaves the farewell letter, and nips out locking the door – to appear again a few minutes later as though he had just arrived.’ Frankie shook her head regretfully.
‘It’s a good idea – but it won’t work. To begin with, the key was in Henry Bassington-ffrench’s pocket ‘ ‘Who found it there?’ ‘Well, as a matter of fact, Nicholson did.’ ‘There you are. What’s easier for him than to pretend to find it there.’ ‘I was watching him – remember. I’m sure the key was in the pocket.’ ‘That’s what one says when one watches a conjurer. You see the rabbit being put into the hat! If Nicholson is a high-class criminal, a simple little bit of sleight of hand like that would be child’s play to him.’ ‘Well, you may be right about that, but honestly, Bobby, the whole thing’s impossible. Sylvia Bassington-ffrench was actually in the house when the shot was fired. The moment she heard it she ran out into the hall. If Nicholson had fired the shot and come out through the study door she would have been bound to see him. Besides, she told us that he actually came up the drive to the front door. She saw him coming as we ran round the house and went to meet him and brought him round to the study window. No, Bobby, I hate to say it, but the man has an alibi.’ ‘On principle, I distrust people who have alibis,’ said Bobby.
‘So do I. But I don’t see how you can get round this one.’ ‘No. Sylvia Bassington-ffrench’s word ought to be good enough.’ ‘Yes, indeed.’ ‘Well,’ said Bobby with a sigh. ‘I suppose we’ll have to leave it at suicide. Poor devil. What’s the next angle of attack, Frankie?’ ‘The Caymans,’ said Frankie. ‘I can’t think how we’ve been so remiss as not to have looked them up before. You’ve kept the address Cayman wrote from, haven’t you?’ ‘Yes. It’s the same they gave at the inquest. 17 St Leonard’s Gardens, Paddington.’ ‘Don’t you agree that we’ve rather neglected that channel of inquiry?’ ‘Absolutely. All the same, you know, Frankie, I’ve got a very shrewd idea that you’ll find the birds flown. I should imagine that the Caymans weren’t exactly born yesterday.’ ‘Even if they have gone off, I may find out something about them.’ ‘Why – /?’ ‘Because, once again, I don’t think you’d better appear in the matter. It’s like coming down here when we thought Roger was the bad man of the show. You are known to them and I am not.’ ‘And how do your propose to make their acquaintance?’ asked Bobby.
‘I shall be something political,’ said Frankie. ‘Canvassing for the Conservative Party. I shall arrive with leaflets.’ ‘Good enough,’ said Bobby. ‘But, as I said before, I think you’ll find the birds flown. Now there’s another thing that requires to be thought of – Moira.’ ‘Goodness,’ said Frankie, ‘I’d forgotten all about her.’ ‘So I noticed,’ said Bobby with a trace of coldness in his manner.
‘You’re right,’ said Frankie thoughtfully. ‘Something must be done about her.’ Bobby nodded. The strange haunting face came up before his eyes. There was something tragic about it. He had always felt that from the first moment when he had taken the photograph from Alan Carstairs’ pocket.