Hawes glanced at me sideways.
“Why don’t you think it’s probable?”
“Because,” I said, “a man like Archer wouldn’t think of shooting a man with a pistol. It’s the wrong weapon.”
Hawes seemed taken aback by my argument. Evidently it wasn’t the objection he had expected.
“Do you really think the objection is feasible?” he asked doubtingly.
“To my mind it is a complete stumbling block to Archer’s having committed the crime,” I said.
In face of my positive assertion, Hawes said no more. He thanked me again and left.
I had gone as far as the front door with him, and on the hall table I saw four notes. They had certain characteristics in common. The handwriting was almost unmistakably feminine, they all bore the words, “By hand, Urgent,” and the only difference I could see was that one was noticeably dirtier than the rest.
Their similarity gave me a curious feeling of seeing—not double but quadruple.
Mary came out of the kitchen and caught me staring at them.
“Come by hand since lunch time,” she volunteered. “All but one. I found that in the box.”
I nodded, gathered them up and took them into the study.
The first one ran thus: