Mr. O’Rourke’s whisky and soda having been doped the night before. He gets the papers, throws them down to the girl, climbs down the ivy again, and⁠—starts the fight. That’s easy enough when you come to think of it. Knock the tables down, stagger about, speak in your own voice and then in a hoarse half-whisper. And then, the final touch, the two revolver shots. His own Colt automatic, bought openly the day before, is fired at an imaginary assailant. Then, with his left gloved hand, he takes from his pocket the small Mauser pistol and shoots himself through the fleshy part of the right arm. He flings the pistol through the window, tears off the glove with his teeth, and throws it into the fire. When I arrive he is lying on the floor in a faint.”

Bundle drew a deep breath.

“You didn’t realise all this at the time, Superintendent Battle?”