against him. Well, to continue my surmises. Rayburn is the ‘man in the brown suit.’ He had read the paper he dropped. Therefore, misled by the dot as you were, he attempts to reach cabin 17 at one o’clock on the 22nd, having previously tried to get possession of the cabin through Pagett. On the way there somebody knifes him—”
“Who?” I interpolated.
“Chichester. Yes, it all fits in. Cable to Lord Nasby that you have found the man in the brown suit, and your fortune’s made, Anne!”
“There are several things you’ve overlooked.”
“What things? Rayburn’s got a scar, I know—but a scar can be faked easily enough. He’s the right height and build. What’s the description of a head with which you pulverized them at Scotland Yard?”
I trembled. Suzanne was a well-educated, well-read woman, but I prayed that she might not be conversant with technical terms of anthropology.
“Dolichocephalic,” I said lightly.
Suzanne looked doubtful.
“Was that it?”
“Yes. Long-headed, you know. A head whose width is less than 75 percent of its length,” I explained fluently.
There was a pause. I was just beginning to breathe freely when Suzanne said suddenly: “What’s the opposite?”
“What do you mean—the opposite?”
“Well, there must be an opposite. What do you call the heads whose breadth is more than 75 percent of their length.”