“Well, that’s four people; two whose behaviour has not been quite what you’d expect under the circumstances, and two who are downright suspicious. Anyhow, you can say four curious people.” Alec nodded in silence. He was thinking of a fifth person whose conduct early that morning had been something more than curious. With an effort he thrust the thought from him abruptly. At any rate, Roger was going to know nothing about that. “And now we come to facts, and the Lord knows these are curious enough, too. First of all, we’ve got the place of the wound and the extreme unlikelihood (as one would have said if one hadn’t actually seen it) of anyone committing suicide by shooting himself in that particular way. About that I’m not going to say any more for the moment. But there are plenty of things to talk about without that.” “There would be, with you anywhere about,” Alec murmured irreverently. “You wait. This is serious. Now according to what they say, people went to bed in pretty decent time, last night, didn’t they? Mrs. Plant after meeting Stanworth in the hall; Barbara and her mother soon after you came in from the garden; and Jefferson and you after you’d finished playing billiards?” “That’s right,” Alec nodded. “Eleven thirtyish.” “Well,” said Roger triumphantly. “Somebody’s lying! I was working in my room till past one, and I heard footsteps in the corridor not once but two or three times between midnight and then—the last time just as I was knocking off! Of course I didn’t pay any particular attention to them at the time; but I know I’m not mistaken. So if everyone says that they were in their rooms by eleven-thirty (except Stanworth, who was presumably locked in the library), then I repeat—somebody’s lying! Now what do you make of that?” “Heaven only knows,” said Alec helplessly, puffing vigorously at his pipe. “What do you?” “Beyond the bare fact that somebody’s lying, nothing—yet! But that’s quite enough for the present. Then there’s another thing. You remember where those keys were? In the waistcoat pocket above the one in which he usually kept them. The inspector just remarked that he must have put them in the wrong pocket. Now, do you think that’s likely?” “Might be done. I don’t see anything wildly improbable in it.” “Oh, no; not wildly improbable. But improbable enough, for all that. Have you ever done it, for instance?” “Put a thing in the wrong pocket? Lord, yes; heaps of times.” “No, you idiot. Not just in any wrong pocket. In the upper pocket of a waistcoat instead of the lower.” Alec considered. “I don’t know. Haven’t I!” “Probably not. Once again, it’s an unnatural mistake. One doesn’t use the upper pockets of a waistcoat much. They’re not easy to get at. But consider this. When you want to slip a thing into the lower pocket of a waistcoat that’s hanging on a chair, it’s the easiest thing in the world to put it in the upper pocket by mistake. Done it myself hundreds of times.”