‘I—no. I have done the trick at least fifty times and I have only failed once before. On that occasion no harm was done. The dart grazed the third finger but it was really nothing. I told Mr Watchman of this incident, but he said he’d stick to his bargain, and I consented.’

‘Go on please, Mr Legge.’

‘He put his hand against the dart-board with the fingers spread out as I suggested. There were two segments of the board showing between the fingers in each instance.’ Legge paused and then said: ‘So you see it’s really easier than round-the-clock. Twice as easy.’

Legge stopped and the coroner waited.

‘Yes?’ he said to his blotting paper.

‘I tried the darts, which were new ones, and then began. I put the first dart on the outside of the little finger and the next between the little and third fingers, and the next between the third and middle.’

‘It was the fourth dart, then, that miscarried?’

‘Yes.’

‘How do you account for that?’

‘At first I thought he had moved his finger. I am still inclined to think so.’

The coroner stirred uneasily.

‘Would you not be positive on this point if it was so? You must have looked fixedly at the fingers.’

‘At the space between,’ corrected Legge.

‘I see.’ Dr Mordant looked at his notes.

‘The previous statements,’ he said, ‘mention that you had all taken a certain amount of a vintage brandy. Exactly how much brandy, Mr Legge, did you take?’

‘Two nips.’

’How large a quantity? Mr William Pomeroy states that a bottle of Courvoisier ‘87 was opened at Mr Watchman’s request and that the contents were served out to everyone but himself, Miss Darragh and Miss Moore. That would mean a sixth of a bottle to each of the persons who took it.’

‘Er—yes. Yes.’

‘Had you finished your brandy when you threw the dart?’

‘Yes.’

‘Had you taken anything else previously?’

‘A pint of beer,’ said Legge unhappily.

‘N-n-n—yes. Thank you. Now where did you put the darts you used for this experiment?’

‘They were new darts. Mr Pomeroy opened the package and suggested—’ Legge broke off and wetted his lips. ‘He suggested that I should christen the new darts,’ he said.

‘Did you take them from Mr Pomeroy?’

‘Yes. He fitted the flights while we played round-the-clock and then gave them to me for the experiment.’

‘No one else handled them?’

‘Mr Will Pomeroy and Mr Parish picked them up and looked at them.’

‘I see. Now for the sequel, Mr Legge.’

But again Legge’s story followed the others. His deposition was read to him and he signed it, making rather a slow business of writing his name. The coroner called Abel Pomeroy.

II