“(So simple as to sound comic, isn’t it? But if one thinks, one can see that in that simplicity lies that same touch of genius which characterises the whole of the other arrangements of the crime. To utilise his own little tricks, such as that way he had of sitting on a chair like a nervous schoolboy, that is genius. He knew that all they could have seen of him from that doorway, if he had really sat in his favourite position in that chair, would have been the top of his head, the ends of his trousers, and his shoes. He knew also that they were so accustomed to seeing only hair, trousers, and shoes when he was really there, that if they saw hair, trousers, and shoes they would be prepared to swear they had seen _him_.) “When the time comes, at last, he drops his rope of silk from the window and descends, his heart beating high with exultation. The moment he has waited for, schemed for, gloated over, will be with him at the end of that short journey. . . . Some minutes later he returns by the same precarious stair. · · · · · · · · · · “It was the simplicity and sheer daring of the scheme that made this the wellnigh perfect crime it was. It was here that the maniac hatred he had of Hoode helped him so greatly. I cannot conceive any but a man insane running the tremendous risk of discovery which he took with such equanimity. Nor would any but one with the great clarity of mind only attained by the mad have even dreamed of carrying out a crime so adult by means of the schoolboy trick of the dummy. It was an application of the bolster-in-the-dormitory-bed idea which nearly succeeded by virtue of its very unlikelihood. “I have little more to say, though it would, of course, be possible to go much further in endeavouring to show the subtler shades of motive for each separate link of Digby-Coates’s plot, and to go into such questions as whether he chose Deacon as scapegoat merely for convenience in drawing suspicion away from himself or whether he had some darker reason; but the time for that sort of thing is not yet. “One more word. I wish to make it plain that as a case I know this report to be less complete than is desirable. I know that it might be impossible to hang Digby-Coates simply upon the strength of what I have set down. I know that in all probability the Crown would say that, unless the case were strengthened, it could not be regarded as enough even to try him on. I know the later stages of the report are mainly conjecture—guess-work if you like. “I know all this, I say, but I also know that if there is any justice in England to-day I have shown enough of the true history of John Hoode’s death to bring about the immediate release of Archibald Deacon. “I know that Arthur Digby-Coates is guilty of the murder of John Hoode, and, having gone so far towards proving this beyond doubt, I intend to see him brought to trial.