“Why, if some person who knew that Mr. Endicott was subject to heart attacks were deliberately to shock or scare him suddenly, or even give him a not especially forceful blow over the heart, and he were to die as a result of any one of those things, that would be murder. It would have to be proved pretty conclusively, of course, that it had been done deliberately.”
Mrs. Endicott joined him in his continued inspection of the Sargent. “It would indicate a rather circumscribed field for suspects, too, don’t you think?”
“Yes. One would confine one’s suspicions to those who were intimate enough with him to know of his physical condition. But apart from all that phase, there are those things we technically speak of as ‘attendant circumstances.’ They point to murder.”
Their glances brushed for a second in passing and then parted.
“Such as?”
Lieutenant Valcour explained, with certain reservations. “The note you showed me—the position of Mr. Endicott in the cupboard—the fact that he is completely dressed for out of doors, but there is no trace of his hat—oh, several little things that speak quite plainly.” He focused her directly. “Where did Mr. Endicott usually keep his hats?”
“I’ve never noticed particularly. There’s a cupboard downstairs in the entrance hall, and of course the one—”
“Yes, I’ve looked for it up here. I wonder whether you’d care to tell me what happened—what you did, I mean, and what you remember of Mr. Endicott’s movements from the time, say, of his reaching home this afternoon.”
Mrs. Endicott’s face sought refuge in the very pith of candour. “Why, nothing much—nothing unusual.”