‘You mean-?’

‘I’d like you to hear my story first, sir. These are the circumstances: This afternoon, about five o’clock, I was rung up by Mr Lee at Addlesfield police station. He sounded a bit odd over the phone-asked me to come and see him at eight o’clock this evening-made a special point of the time. Moreover, he instructed me to say to the butler that I was collecting subscriptions for some police charity.’

The chief constable looked up sharply.

‘Wanted some plausible pretext to get you into the house?’

‘That’s right, sir. Well, naturally, Mr Lee is an important person, and I acceded to his request. I got here a little before eight o’clock, and represented myself as seeking subscriptions for the Police Orphanage. The butler went away and returned to tell me that Mr Lee would see me. Thereupon he showed me up to Mr Lee’s room, which is situated on the first floor, immediately over the dining-room.’

Superintendent Sugden paused, drew a breath and then proceeded in a somewhat official manner with his report.

‘Mr Lee was seated in a chair by the fireplace. He was wearing a dressing-gown. When the butler had left the room and closed the door, Mr Lee asked me to sit near him. He then said rather hesitatingly that he wanted to give me particulars of a robbery. I asked him what had been taken. He replied that he had reason to believe that diamonds (uncut diamonds, I think he said) to the value of several thousand pounds had been stolen from his safe.’

‘Diamonds, eh?’ said the chief constable.

‘Yes, sir. I asked him various routine questions, but his manner was very uncertain and his replies were somewhat vague in character. At last he said, “You must understand, Superintendent, that I may be mistaken in this matter.” I said, “I do not quite understand, sir. Either the diamonds are missing or they are not missing-one or the other.” He replied, “The diamonds are certainly missing, but it is just possible, Superintendent, that their disappearance may be simply a rather foolish kind of practical joke.” Well, that seemed odd to me, but I said nothing. He went on: “It is difficult for me to explain in detail, but what it amounts to is this: So far as I can see, only two persons can possibly have the stones. One of those persons might have done it as a joke. If the other person took them, then they have definitely been stolen.” I said, “What exactly do you want me to do, sir?” He said quickly, “I want you, Superintendent, to return here in about an hour-no, make it a little more than that-say nine-fifteen. At that time I shall be able to tell you definitely whether I have been robbed or not.” I was a little mystified, but I agreed and went away.’

Colonel Johnson commented:

‘Curious-very curious. What do you say, Poirot?’

Hercule Poirot said:

‘May I ask, Superintendent, what conclusions you yourself drew?’ 

The superintendent stroked his jaw as he replied carefully:

‘Well, various ideas occurred to me, but on the whole, I figured it out this way. There was no question of any practical joke. The diamonds had been stolen all right. But the old gentleman wasn’t sure who’d done it. It’s my opinion that he was speaking the truth when he said that it might have been one of two people-and of those two people one was a servant and the other was amember of the family.’

Poirot nodded appreciatively.

‘Tres bien. Yes, that explains his attitude very well.’

‘Hence his desire that I should return later. In the interval he meant to have an interview with the person in question. He would tell them that he had already spoken of the matter to the police but that, if restitution were promptly made, he could hush the matter up.’

Colonel Johnson said:

‘And if the suspect didn’t respond?’

‘In that case, he meant to place the investigation in our hands.’

Colonel Johnson frowned and twisted his moustache. He demurred.

‘Why not take that coursebefore calling you in?’

‘No, no, sir.’ The superintendent shook his head. ‘Don’t you see, if he had done that, it might have been bluff. It wouldn’t have been half so convincing. The person might say to himself, “The old man won’t call the police in, no matter what he suspects!” But if the old gentleman says to him, “I’vealready spoken to the police, the superintendent has only just left.” Then the thief asks the butler, say, and the butler confirms that. He says, “Yes, the superintendent was here just before dinner.” Then the chief is convinced the old gentleman means business and it’s up to him to cough up the stones.’

‘H’m, yes, I see that,’ said Colonel Johnson. ‘Any idea, Sugden, who this “member of the family” might be?’

‘No, sir.’

‘No indication whatsoever?’

‘None.’

Johnson shook his head. Then he said:

‘Well, let’s get on with it.’

Superintendent Sugden resumed his official manner.

‘I returned to the house, sir, at nine-fifteen precisely. Just as I was about to ring the front door bell, I heard a scream from inside the house, and then a confused sound of shouts and a general commotion. I rang several times and also used the knocker. It was three or four minutes before the door was answered. When the footman at last opened it I could see that something momentous had occurred. He was shaking all over and looked as though he was about to faint. He gasped out that Mr Lee had been murdered. I ran hastily upstairs. I found Mr Lee’s room in a state of wild confusion. There had evidently been a severe struggle. Mr Lee himself was lying in front of the fire with his throat cut in a pool of blood.’

The chief constable said sharply:

‘He couldn’t have done it himself?’

Sugden shook his head.

‘Impossible, sir. For one thing, there were the chairs and tables overturned, and the broken crockery and ornaments, and then there was no sign of the razor or knife with which the crime had been committed.’

The chief constable said thoughtfully:

‘Yes, that seems conclusive. Anyone in the room?’

‘Most of the family were there, sir. Just standing round.’

Colonel Johnson said sharply:

‘Any ideas, Sugden?’

The superintendent said slowly:

‘It’s a bad business, sir. It looks to me as though one of them must have done it. I don’t see how anyone from outside could have done it and got away in time.’

‘What about the window? Closed or open?’

‘There are two windows in the room, sir. One was closed and locked. The other was open a few inches at the bottom-but it was fixed in that position by a burglar screw, and moreover, I’ve tried it and it’s stuck fast-hasn’t been opened for years, I should say. Also the wall outside is quite smooth and unbroken-no ivy or creepers. I don’t see how anyone could have left that way.’

‘How many doors in the room?’

‘Just one. The room is at the end of a passage. That door was locked on the inside. When they heard the noise of the struggle and the old man’s dying scream, and rushed upstairs, they had to break down the door to get in.’

Johnson said sharply:

‘And who was in the room?’

Superintendent Sugden replied gravely:

‘Nobody was in the room, sir, except the old man who had been killed not more than a few minutes previously.’

Colonel Johnson stared at Sugden for some minutes before he spluttered:

‘Do you mean to tell me, Superintendent, that this is one of those damned cases you get in detective stories where a man is killed in a locked room by some apparently supernatural agency?’ 

A very faint smile agitated the superintendent’s moustache as he replied gravely:

‘I do not think it’s quite as bad as that, sir.’

Colonel Johnson said:

‘Suicide. It must be suicide!’

‘Where’s the weapon, if so? No, sir, suicide won’t do.’

‘Then how did the murderer escape? By the window?’ Sugden shook his head.

‘I’ll take my oath he didn’t do that.’

‘But the door was locked, you say, on the inside.’

The superintendent nodded. He drew a key from his pocket and laid it on the table.

‘No fingerprints,’ he announced. ‘But just look at that key, sir. Take a look at it with that magnifying glass there.’

Poirot bent forward. He and Johnson examined the key together. The chief constable uttered an exclamation.

‘By Jove, I get you. Those faint scratches on the end of the barrel. You see ’em, Poirot?’

‘But yes, I see. That means, does it not, that the key was turned from outside the door-turned by means of a special implement that went through the keyhole and gripped the barrel-possibily an ordinary pair of pliers would do it.’

The superintendent nodded. 

‘It can be done all right.’

Poirot said: ‘The idea being, then, that the death would be thought to be suicide, since the door was locked and no one was in the room?’

‘That was the idea, M. Poirot, not a doubt of it, I should say.’

Poirot shook his head doubtfully.

‘But the disorder in the room! As you say, that by itself wiped out the idea of suicide. Surely the murderer would first of all have set the room to rights.’

Superintendent Sugden said: ‘But he hadn’ttime, Mr Poirot. That’s the whole point. He hadn’t time. Let’s say he counted on catching the old gentleman unawares. Well, that didn’t come off. There was a struggle-a struggle heard plainly in the room underneath; and, what’s more, the old gentleman called out for help. Everyone came rushing up. The murderer’s only got time to nip out of the room and turn the key from the outside.’

‘That is true,’ Poirot admitted. ‘Your murderer, he may have made the bungle. But why, oh why, did he not at least leave the weapon? For naturally, if there is no weapon, it cannot be suicide! That was an error most grave.’

Superintendent Sugden said stolidly:

‘Criminals usually make mistakes. That’s our experience.’ 

Poirot gave a light sigh. He murmured:

‘But all the same, in spite of his mistakes, he has escaped this criminal.’

‘I don’t think he has exactlyescaped.’

‘You mean he is in the house still?’

‘I don’t see where else he can be. It was an inside job.’

‘But,tout de meme,’ Poirot pointed out gently, ‘he has escaped to this extent:You do not know who he is.’