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Armstrong said, puzzled:

‘I beg your pardon.’

Lombard said:

‘I mean—it explains Soldier Island. There are crimes that cannot be brought home to their perpetrators. Instance the Rogers’. Another instance, old Wargrave, who committed his murder strictly within the law.’

Armstrong said sharply: ‘You believe that story?’

Philip Lombard smiled.

‘Oh, yes, I believe it. Wargrave murdered Edward Seton all right, murdered him as surely as if he’d stuck a stiletto through him! But he was clever enough to do it from the judge’s seat in wig and gown. So in the ordinary way you can’t bring his little crime home to him.’

A sudden flash passed like lightning through Armstrong’s mind.

‘Murder in Hospital. Murder on the Operating-table. Safe– yes, safe as houses!

Philip Lombard was saying:

‘Hence—Mr Owen—hence—Soldier Island!’

Armstrong drew a deep breath.

‘Now we’re getting down to it. What’s the real purpose of getting us all here?’

Philip Lombard said: ‘What do you think?’

Armstrong said abruptly:

‘Let’s go back a minute to this woman’s death. What are the possible theories? Rogers killed her because he was afraid she would give the show away. Second possibility: she lost her nerve and took an easy way out herself.’

Philip Lombard said:

‘Suicide, eh?’

‘What do you say to that?’

Lombard said:

‘It could have been—yes—if it hadn’t been for Marston’s death. Two suicides within twelve hours is a little too much to swallow! And if you tell me that Anthony Marston, a young bull with no nerves and precious little brains, got the wind up over having mowed down a couple of kids and deliberately put himself out of the way—well, the idea’s laughable! And anyway, how did he get hold of the stuff? From all I’ve ever heard, potassium cyanide isn’t the kind of stuff you take about with you in your waistcoat pocket. But that’s your line of country.’

Armstrong said:

‘Nobody in their senses carries potassium cyanide. It might be done by someone who was going to take a wasps’ nest.’

‘The ardent gardener or landowner, in fact? Again, not Anthony Marston. It strikes me that that cyanide is going to need a bit of explaining. Either Anthony Marston meant to do away with himself before he came here, and therefore came prepared—or else—’

Armstrong prompted him.

‘Or else?’

Philip Lombard grinned.

‘Why make me say it? When it’s on the tip of your own tongue. Anthony Marston was murdered, of course.’

Ill

Dr Armstrong drew a deep breath.

‘And Mrs Rogers?’

Lombard said slowly:

‘I could believe in Anthony’s suicide (with difficulty) if it weren’t for Mrs Rogers. I could believe in Mrs Rogers’ suicide (easily) if it weren’t for Anthony Marston. I can believe that Rogers put his wife out of the way—if it were not for the unexpected death of Anthony Marston. But what we need is a theory to explain two deaths following rapidly on each other.’

Armstrong said:

‘I can perhaps give you some help towards that theory.’ And he repeated the facts that Rogers had given him about the disappearance of the two little china figures.