I saw at a glance that Colonel Melchett and Inspector Slack had not been seeing eye to eye about the case. Melchett looked flushed and annoyed and the inspector looked sulky.
“I’m sorry to say,” said Melchett, “that Inspector Slack doesn’t agree with me in considering young Redding innocent.”
“If he didn’t do it, what does he go and say he did it for?” asked Slack sceptically.
“ Mrs. Protheroe acted in an exactly similar fashion, remember, Slack.”
“That’s different. She’s a woman, and women act in that silly way. I’m not saying she did it for a moment. She heard he was accused and she trumped up a story. I’m used to that sort of game. You wouldn’t believe the fool things I’ve known women do. But Redding’s different. He’s got his head screwed on all right. And if he admits he did it, well, I say he did do it. It’s his pistol—you can’t get away from that. And thanks to this business of Mrs. Protheroe, we know the motive. That was the weak point before, but now we know it—why, the whole thing’s plain sailing.”
“You think he can have shot him earlier? At six-thirty, say?”
“He can’t have done that.”
“You’ve checked up his movements?”
The inspector nodded.
“He was in the village near the Blue Boar at ten past six. From there he came along the back lane where you say the old lady next door saw