“Because I claim it was him who fired the first shot, and he still has the audacity to say it was me who not only shot first, but shot two times before he so much as pulled the trigger.”
“That,” said Lieutenant Valcour, “is exactly what I wanted to know. You were both right and both wrong.”
“Now, how can that be, Lieutenant?”
“Neither of you fired the first shot, because it was fired by the murderer over there at the window. You heard it, and thought Hansen had fired. Hansen heard it, and then heard your following shot, and thought that you had fired twice.”
“That must have been it at that, Lieutenant.”
“It was. The second thing I wanted to ask you about is Mrs. Endicott. She isn’t in her room. Have you seen her about the corridor, or anywhere else?”
“No, sir.”
“Then go and look her up. Ask the men downstairs if they’ve seen her, and if they haven’t, look through the rooms on this floor and up above. When you do come across her, ask her if she will please come in here and see me.”
“Yes, Lieutenant.”
Cassidy went out and closed the door.
Lieutenant Valcour was beginning to feel very, very tired. He yawned elaborately, stared out of the window for a minute or two, and then sat down again at the desk. There was something that he had intended to do there when he had been interrupted by the arrival of Madame Velasquez.