Do you wish me to believe, Knox, that
this same man had not foreseen what the police would think when Colonel
Menendez was found shot within a hundred yards of the garden of the
Guest House?"
I was somewhat taken aback, for Harley's argument was strictly logical,
and:
"It is certainly very puzzling," I admitted.
"Puzzling!" he exclaimed; "it is maddening. This case is like a Syrian
village-mound. Stratum lies under stratum, and in each we meet with
evidence of more refined activity than in the last. It seems we have
yet to go deeper."
He took out his pipe and began to fill it.
"Tell me about the interview with Madame de Staemer," he directed.
I took a seat facing him, and he did not once interrupt me throughout
my account of Inspector Aylesbury's examination of Madame.
"Good," he commented, when I had told how the Inspector was dismissed.
"But at least, Knox, he has a working theory, to which he sticks like
an express to the main line, whereas I find myself constantly called
upon to readjust my perspective. Directly I can enjoy freedom of
movement, however, I shall know whether my hypothesis is a house of
cards or a serviceable structure.
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