If he had expected to read any sympathy in Sir Clinton’s face, he must have been disappointed. The Chief Constable betrayed nothing of the feelings in his mind.
"Was it not most inopportune?" Renard continued "Or most opportune indeed, for Silverdale, that things fell out as they have done. A coincidence, of course. Life is full of these things. I have seen too many to be astonished, myself. But is it not most apt that she should die just at that juncture? Another day of life, and the twelve thousand pounds goes into one pocket; a death, and the money falls into other hands. I am something of a philosopher. One has to be, in this world. And these strange chances have an attraction for my mind. I know there is nothing behind them, nothing whatever, you understand? And yet, is it not most striking that things fall out as they do?"
The Chief Constable declined to be drawn into a general discussion on the Universe.
"I am afraid it is scarcely a matter for the police, Mr. Renard. Wills hardly fall into our province, you know, unless a case of forgery turns up; and in this case there’s nothing of that sort. The only advice I could give you would be to consult a lawyer, but as you’ve already had the legal position made clear, I don’t see that there’s anything to be done."
Inspector Flamborough took his cue and, without more ado he hinted to Renard very plainly that enough time had been spent on the matter. At length the little Frenchman withdrew, leaving the two officials together.
"I don’t much care for his way of telling his story, sir," Flamborough remarked, "but I’m not sure, if I were in his shoes, that I wouldn’t feel much the same as he seems to do. It must be a bit galling to lose £12,000 by a few hours’ delay. And he’s quite reasonably suspicious, evidently."
Sir Clinton refused to be drawn.
"Don’t let’s be too much influenced by the stop press news, Inspector. Renard’s evidence is the latest we have; but that adds nothing to its value, remember. Look at the case as a whole and try to reckon up the people who could conceivably gain anything by the crime. Then you can assess the probabilities in each case—apart altogether from the order in which the facts have come to light."
The Inspector had evidently considered the matter already from this stand-point. He hardly paused before offering his views.
"Well, sir, if you ask me, Silverdale had at least two sound motives for committing murder. By getting his wife out of the way, he opened the road to a marriage with the Deepcar girl, whom he’s obviously keen on. Also, if Renard’s story’s true, the death of his wife at that particular juncture put £12,000 into his pocket, which he’d have lost if Mrs. Silverdale had lived a day or two longer."
"One has to admit that he hadn’t evidence to get a divorce, which would have been an obvious alternative to murder," Sir Clinton acknowledged. "And the cash affair makes the death of Mrs. Silverdale peculiarly opportune. It’s no use burking the plain fact that either money or a woman might tempt a man to murder; and when you’ve got both of them together, one can’t brush them aside cavalierly. But go on with your list, Inspector."
"There’s that money-lender, Spratton," Flamborough pursued. "If young Hassendean’s death can be proved to be a murder, then Spratton lifts some thousands out of the pocket of the insurance company in return for the payment of a single premium. That’s a motive, certainly."
"It’s a sound motive for proving that it was a case of murder and not suicide; and it’s a possible motive for murder, I admit. But the position of a gentleman who commits a murder for gain and can only collect the money by proving that murder was done . . . Well, it sounds a bit complicated, doesn’t it?"
"Unless he can be sure of fixing the murder on someone else, sir."
"It’s a bit difficult in practice to produce a frame-up of that description, isn’t it?"
The Inspector refrained from betraying any opinion on this point.
"Then there’s the Hailsham girl, sir. She’s a vindictive type; and she quite obviously had the worst kind of grudge against both of them. Revenge might have been at the back of the business for all one can tell. I don’t say it’s likely; but I’m considering possibilities, not necessarily probabilities."
"I don’t think Miss Hailsham can reckon me among her admirers," Sir Clinton confessed. "But that’s hardly evidence against her in a murder case. We’d need something a bit more concrete."
"She admitted that she left the dance early that night and took her car home, sir. She hasn’t got a clean alibi for the time the murder was committed."
"So I noticed when she told her story. But the absence of an alibi doesn’t establish murderous intent, you know. Go ahead."
"Well, sir, there’s the Deepcar girl. She’s keen on Silverdale. It’s always a motive."
"Save me from being mixed up in any murder case that you have charge of, Inspector. My character wouldn’t escape, I see. You’ll need to have something better than that before you start arresting anyone."
"I’m not talking about arresting anyone, sir," the Inspector replied in an injured tone. "I’m just reviewing possible motives."
"Quite true. Can’t one make a feeble joke without rasping your susceptibilities? Now is that the end of your list?"
"I think so, sir."
"Ah! You didn’t think of including someone with the initial ‘B,’ then? You remember the ‘B’ on the bracelet?"
The Inspector seemed rather startled.
"You mean this fellow B. might have been a discarded lover of Mrs. Silverdale’s who was out for revenge like the Hailsham girl? I hadn’t thought of that. It’s possible, of course."
"Now let’s turn to a fresh side of the case," Sir Clinton suggested. "One thing’s certain; hyoscine played a part in the affair. What about Mr. Justice’s pertinent inquiry: ‘Who had access to hyoscine at the Croft-Thornton Institute?’"
"Every blessed soul in the place, so far as I could see," the Inspector confessed, rather ruefully. "Silverdale, Markfield, young Hassendean, and the two girls: they all had equal chances of helping themselves from that bottle in the store. I don’t think that leads very far. That hyoscine was common property so far as access to it went. Anyone might have taken some."
"Then push the thing a little further. Out of all that list, who had an opportunity of administering hyoscine to Mrs. Silverdale—directly or indirectly—on the night she died?"
"Directly or indirectly?" Flamborough mused. "There’s something in that perhaps. On the face of it, only three people could have administered the drug directly, since there were only three people at Heatherfield in a fit state to do it. I take it that she swallowed the stuff at Heatherfield, sir, because I found no trace of a paper which might have held it, either at the bungalow or on the bodies of young Hassendean and Mrs. Silverdale."
"That’s sound, I believe," Sir Clinton acquiesced. "She swallowed the stuff at Heatherfield before going out. Now who are your three suspects?"
"Mrs. Silverdale herself might have taken it, sir, either on purpose or by mistake."
"But she had no access to hyoscine that we know of."
"No, sir, but both Silverdale and young Hassendean had. She may have taken it in mistake for a headache powder or something of that sort. And it might have been added to a headache powder by either Silverdale or young Hassendean."
"That’s a good enough suggestion, Inspector. But I didn’t see any sign of a powder paper in her room when I searched it; and you remember she came straight downstairs and went out of the house, according to the maid’s evidence. Any other view?"
"Then it must have been administered in the coffee, sir, by either young Hassendean or the maid."
"The maid? Where would she get hyoscine?"
"From Silverdale, sir. It’s just occurred to me. Silverdale wanted a divorce; but he couldn’t get evidence because his wife was simply playing with young Hassendean and keeping well within the limits. But if she were drugged, then young Hassendean might seize the chance that was offered to him, and if Silverdale was prepared beforehand, he’d have his evidence at the cost of watching them for an hour or two."