“Yes. I got up and left them, and came to look for you. I’d got back to the clothes then. Why did Mark change his clothes so secretly? Disguise? But then what about his face? That was much more important than clothes. His face, his beard—he’d have to shave off his beard—and then—oh, idiot! I saw you looking at that poster. Mark acting, Mark made-up, Mark disguised. Oh, priceless idiot! Mark was Robert.... Matches, please.” Bill passed over the matches again, waited till Antony had relit his pipe, and then held out his hand for them, just as they were going into the other’s pocket. “Yes,” said Bill thoughtfully. “Yes.... But wait a moment. What about the ‘Plough and Horses’?” Antony looked comically at him. “You’ll never forgive me, Bill,” he said. “You’ll never come clue-hunting with me again.” “What do you mean?” Antony sighed. “It was a fake, Watson. I wanted you out of the way. I wanted to be alone. I’d guessed at my x, and I wanted to test it—to test it every way, by everything we’d discovered. I simply _had_ to be alone just then. So—” he smiled and added, “Well, I knew you wanted a drink.” “You _are_ a devil,” said Bill, staring at him. “And your interest when I told you that a woman had been staying there—” “Well, it was only polite to be interested when you’d taken so much trouble.” “You brute! You—you Sherlock! And then you keep trying to steal my matches. Well, go on.” “That’s all. My _x_ fitted.” “Did you guess Miss Norris and all that?” “Well, not quite. I didn’t realize that Cayley had worked for it from the beginning—had put Miss Norris up to frightening Mark. I thought he’d just seized the opportunity.” Bill was silent for a long time. Then, puffing at his pipe, he said slowly, “Has Cayley shot himself?” Antony shrugged his shoulders. “Poor devil,” said Bill. “It was decent of you to give him a chance. I’m glad you did.” “I couldn’t help liking Cayley in a kind of way, you know.” “He’s a clever devil. If you hadn’t turned up just when you did, he would never have been found out.” “I wonder. It was ingenious, but it’s often the ingenious thing which gets found out. The awkward thing from Cayley’s point of view was that, though Mark was missing, neither he nor his body could ever be found. Well, that doesn’t often happen with a missing man. He generally gets discovered in the end; a professional criminal; perhaps not—but an amateur like Mark! He might have kept the secret of _how_ he killed Mark, but I think it would have become obvious sooner or later that he _had_ killed him.” “Yes, there’s something in that.... Oh, just tell me one thing. Why did Mark tell Miss Norbury about his imaginary brother?”