The Red House Mystery by A. A. Milne Page A

exactly how he died. That's all. It doesn't follow that
Cayley killed him."
    "No. No, of course it doesn't." Bill gave a sigh of relief. "He's just
shielding Mark, what?"
    "I wonder."
    "Well, isn't that the simplest explanation?"
    "It's the simplest if you're a friend of Cayley and want to let him down
lightly. But then I'm not, you see."
    "Why isn't it simple, anyhow?"
    "Well, let's have the explanation then, and I'll undertake to give you
a simpler one afterwards. Go on. Only remember the key is on the outside
of the door to start with."
    "Yes; well, I don't mind that. Mark goes in to see his brother, and they
quarrel and all the rest of it, just as Cayley was saying. Cayley hears
the shot, and in order to give Mark time to get away, locks the door,
puts the key in his pocket and pretends that Mark has locked the door,
and that he can't get in. How's that?"
    "Hopeless, Watson, hopeless."
    "Why?"
    "How does Cayley know that it is Mark who has shot Robert, and not the
other way round?"
    "Oh!" said Bill, rather upset. "Yes." He thought for a moment, "All
right. Say that Cayley has gone into the room first, and seen Robert on
the ground."
    "Well?"
    "Well, there you are."
    "And what does he say to Mark? That it's a fine afternoon; and could he
lend him a pocket-handkerchief? Or does he ask him what's happened?"
    "Well, of course, I suppose he asks what happened," said Bill
reluctantly.
    "And what does Mark say?"
    "Explains that the revolver went off accidentally during a struggle."
    "Whereupon Cayley shields him by doing what, Bill? Encouraging him to do
the damn silliest thing that any man could possibly do confess his guilt
by running away!"
    "No, that's rather hopeless, isn't it?" Bill thought again. "Well,"
he said reluctantly, "suppose Mark confessed that he'd murdered his
brother?"
    "That's better, Bill. Don't be afraid of getting away from the accident
idea. Well then, your new theory is this. Mark confesses to Cayley
that he shot Robert on purpose, and Cayley decides, even at the risk of
committing perjury, and getting into trouble himself, to help Mark to
escape. Is that right?"
    Bill nodded.
    "Well then, I want to ask you two questions. First, is it possible, as I
said before dinner, that any man would commit such an idiotic murder—a
murder that puts the rope so very tightly round his neck? Secondly, if
Cayley is prepared to perjure himself for Mark (as he has to, anyway,
now), wouldn't it be simpler for him to say that he was in the office
all the time, and that Robert's death was accidental?"
    Bill considered this carefully, and then nodded slowly again.
    "Yes, my simple explanation is a wash-out," he said. "Now let's have
yours."
    Antony did not answer him. He had begun to think about something quite
different.

Chapter IX - Possibilities of a Croquet Set
*
    "What's the matter?" said Bill sharply.
    Antony looked round at him with raised eyebrows.
    "You've thought of something suddenly," said Bill. "What is it?"
    Antony laughed.
    "My dear Watson," he said, "you aren't supposed to be as clever as
this."
    "Oh, you can't take me in!"
    "No.... Well, I was wondering about this ghost of yours, Bill. It seems
to me—"
    "Oh, that!" Bill was profoundly disappointed. "What on earth has the
ghost got to do with it?"
    "I don't know," said Antony apologetically. "I don't know what anything
has got to do with it. I was just wondering. You shouldn't have brought
me here if you hadn't wanted me to think about the ghost. This is where
she appeared, isn't it?"
    "Yes." Bill was distinctly short about it.
    "How?"
    "What?"
    "I said, 'How?'"
    "How? How do ghosts appear? I don't know. They just appear."
    "Over four or five hundred yards of open park?"
    "Well, but she had to appear here, because this is where the original
one—Lady Anne, you know—was supposed to walk."
    "Oh, never mind Lady Anne! A real ghost can do anything. But how did
Miss Norris appear suddenly over five hundred yards of bare park?"
    Bill looked at Antony with open