‘My first step was to telegraph to my one and only aunt as follows: “Regret detained here. Am writing.” On the following morning she received a letter from me which I am able to produce in its envelope. The letter is in my own handwriting on paper stamped with the Rectory address. The letter is dated Tuesday evening, and the post-mark on the envelope shows that it was posted at Meldon Bois on that day. Now that letter not only states that I had remained so as not to miss the pastoral amateurs, but also makes several statements as to their performance, every one of which can be proved to be absolutely accurate. These statements are that Miss Sykes looked charming in some pale lilac-coloured contraption, that the comedian over-acted, that the weather was not entirely favourable, that some of the players seemed to find a difficulty in making themselves audible, that quite a nice sum was realised for the Cottage Hospital, and that the Rector in proposing a vote of thanks to the players said that where all were so good it would be invidious to differentiate. I have no doubt that on the strength of that letter and the details it contains, my aunt would give evidence in good faith that to her knowledge I must have been at Meldon Bois on Tuesday afternoon. Notwithstanding this, I left Meldon Bois on Tuesday morning by the train originally contemplated, and on Tuesday afternoon I was playing bridge at my club in London, as various members of the club who met me there would attest.’ ‘On the face of it,’ said the chairman, ‘it looks like rather a good case. I presume that you wrote the letter to your aunt before leaving by train in the morning, and gave it to a servant with instructions to post it after the performance.’ ‘Precisely so.’ ‘But how did you manage to give an accurate account of the performance at which you were really not present?’ ‘Well, Miss Sykes was staying at the Rectory and had told me what dress she would wear. The rest was intelligent anticipation. The glass was low, and, besides, the weather is always unfavourable for pastoral plays, and some of the players always fail to make their voices carry in the open. Given village amateurs, over-acting by the comedian is as certain as death. To put the receipts as a nice sum was quite safe. It was riskier to quote the Rector’s actual words, but he’s a kindly and tactful man with a circumscribed mind, so I thought I might chance it, and it came off.’ The next few members on whom the chairman called produced nothing of interest. Some, like Hesseltine, had thought of the bogus telegram. Some, like Feldane, were resting. Dr Alden had tried an idea of his own, and expressed the hope that the chairman would think better of it than he did himself.