“Only the maker’s; that’s the irritating thing about this business. Hats, collars, shirts, people buy them at a moment’s notice and pay cash for them, so there’s no record in the books. And watches—of course you don’t have a watch sent, you take it with you, to save the danger of carriage by post. I’ll try all those tradesmen if the worst comes to the worst; probably the police have already; but I bet nothing comes of it.” “What’s your next argument against suicide?” “The ticket. That extra four bob would have got him a first instead of a third. Now, a man who means to commit suicide doesn’t want four bob, but he does want to be alone.” “But the suicide might have been an impulse at the last moment.” “I don’t believe it. The place where he fell was just the one place about here where he was bound to kill himself, not merely maim himself. That looks like preparation.” “All right. Any more?” “No, but I think that’s enough to go on with. The probability I’m going to bet on is murder.” “You’re up against coincidence again, though, there. Why should somebody happen to murder Brotherhood on the very day he went bankrupt?” “You _will_ go on assuming that it is Brotherhood. Supposing, just for the sake of argument, that Brotherhood has saved a nest-egg for himself, and is skipping to avoid his creditors—what better way of throwing people off the scent than by a pretended suicide?” “That is, by pitching a total stranger down the viaduct.” “I didn’t say a total stranger. Suppose it were somebody in pursuit of him, or somebody he suspected of pursuing him?” “But he couldn’t be sure that the face would get mangled like that. It was only one chance in a thousand that the body should scrape down all along that buttress on its face.” “He may simply have wanted to kill the man, without hoping that the corpse would be mistaken for him. After all, we’ve got to explain the ticket; a man who takes a single ticket down here is almost certainly not a resident here—the half-fare is so cheap. A spy, tracking him, or somebody he takes to be a spy tracking him. He stuns the man while he’s not looking, and then pitches him out. He’s desperate, remember.” “Well, it seems to hang together that way.” “But I’m not at all sure that’s the right way. I’m not at all sure that Brotherhood isn’t the murderee, and the murderer somebody unknown—such a murder might be connected with a bankruptcy, a ruined creditor, for example.” “And how are you going to look for the murderer if that’s so?” “You’re going to help me. We’re going to have a little detective holiday, and leave the game alone for a bit. Of course we must find out all about Brotherhood first—it’s extraordinary how little people seem to know about him. I asked four men in the Club whether he wore a wrist-watch or not: two couldn’t remember, one said he did, and one swore he didn’t. But there must be some servant who looks after his bungalow for him; so I’m going there to-morrow to pump them.”