Slack, you’d better have a word with the maid.”
Inspector Slack moved with alacrity towards the door.
“I shouldn’t ask her if she heard a shot in the house,” I said. “Because if you do, she’ll deny it. Call it a shot in the wood. That’s the only kind of shot she’ll admit to hearing.”
“I know how to manage them,” said Inspector Slack, and disappeared.
“Miss Marple says she heard a shot later,” said Colonel Melchett thoughtfully. “We must see if she can fix the time at all precisely. Of course it may be a stray shot that had nothing to do with the case.”
“It may be, of course,” I agreed.
The colonel took a turn or two up and down the room.
“Do you know, Clement,” he said suddenly, “I’ve a feeling that this is going to turn out a much more intricate and difficult business than any of us think. Dash it all, there’s something behind it.” He snorted. “Something we don’t know about. We’re only beginning, Clement. Mark my words, we’re only beginning. All these things, the clock, the note, the pistol—they don’t make sense as they stand.”
I shook my head. They certainly didn’t.
“But I’m going to get to the bottom of it. No calling in of Scotland Yard. Slack’s a smart man. He’s a very smart man. He’s a kind of ferret. He’ll nose his way through to the truth. He’s done several very good things already, and this case will be his chef d’oeuvre . Some men would call in Scotland Yard. I shan’t. We’ll get to the bottom of this here in Downshire.”
“I hope so, I’m sure,” I said.