“You’re right. At least, it was probably sent after one of them. There’s no necessary reason to suppose that they were both done at the same time. We don’t even know that the same man did them.” “Oh, I don’t know about that. Two murders in one night is bad enough; but to ask me to believe in two different murderers is too much of a strain on my credulity.” “Then you don’t think Prinsep killed George?” Ellery asked. “No, I’m nearly sure he didn’t. It isn’t, I’m afraid, dear, that I don’t think he was morally capable of it. I simply feel sure he wouldn’t have been such a fool.” “Not even if George had told what he thought of him about Charis Lang? They’d both probably have lost their tempers pretty badly.” “No, Bob, not even then. At least I’m nearly sure. I’m convinced there was only one murderer. Remember they were both killed the same way.” “Well, let’s assume you’re right. Then if what you said about the ’phone message was right, it was probably sent after one of the murders—I mean immediately after. The murderer wouldn’t have wasted time on the premises.” “Yes, that means that 11.30, or thereabouts, is the critical time. Then half-past ten is the earliest possible. Winter went up to get John’s letters then, and everything was all right.” “Oh, but George was seen long after that. Winter let him in by the front door at a quarter to eleven.” “Yes, it was certainly George he let in. They spoke, and he couldn’t have made a mistake. That narrows it a bit.” “Then probably it all happened after a quarter to eleven—unless George found Prinsep dead when he got upstairs, and chased the murderer down the private stairs into the garden, and got killed by him out there. How does that strike you, Joan?” “It’s possible, Bob; but it looks as if we couldn’t fix the time very nearly. It was somewhere between a quarter to eleven and half-past; but that’s as near as we can get.” “Let it stand there: and now let’s follow out our original plan, and see what we know about everybody who might have been mixed up in it. Let’s write it down. I’ll write.” Losing no time, they got to work. First, they made a list of every one who had been present at the dinner on the evening of the tragedy—Sir Vernon. John Prinsep, George Brooklyn and his wife, Carter and Mrs. Woodman, Lucas, Mary Woodman—and themselves. Next came the servants—Winter, Morgan, Agnes Dutch, the two other maids, the hired waiters. These were the only persons who, as far as they knew, had been in the house that night. Next, they wrote down exactly what they knew of the doings of every one of these people, leaving spaces in which they could fill in further particulars as they discovered more. When it was finished the list and comments took this form:—