There was silence in the room for a space after he had gone. The shorthand writer took his notes and went out to prepare a transcript of the interview. Mallett sat staring at the blotter on his desk, mechanically pulling at his moustache, deep in thought. Finally he turned to Frant.

“Well, and what did you make of him?” he asked.

“Obviously a very conceited man,” answered the sergeant.

“Conceited? H’m, yes, and a good deal more than that. But you’re right, Frant. He is a very vain man indeed. Prison life hurt his vanity more than anything else, obviously. Has it ever occurred to you, Frant, that all murderers are exceptionally vain? You have to be, to think that your own interests or convenience are sufficiently important to justify killing a man.”

“Then do you think——?”

“No, I don’t. Not yet, anyway. There’s not a thing he’s told us which isn’t consistent with perfect innocence, and not a jury in England would convict on it. So anyway, our private beliefs don’t matter.”

“My own private belief, for what it’s worth,” said Frant, “is that Fanshawe was in league with James. I look at it this way: James, for some reason or another, disguises himself as—James. He lives in that disguise, very likely from August onwards—certainly for a month. He scrapes acquaintance with Ballantine—that may be presumed from the letter to the bank. All this time, he is waiting for Fanshawe’s release from prison. He engages a house through an old friend of Fanshawe’s and has for his sole servant a man formerly employed by that old friend. Then immediately Fanshawe is free, he decoys Ballantine to the house——”

“Having first got rid of the dependable servant,” interrupted Mallett. “Why?”

“That’s natural enough. He didn’t want a third person to be involved in the murder. I dare say he could trust him up to a point and not to give away his disguise, but letting him have a share in the crime is another thing.”

“I see. Go on.”

“Where was I? He decoys Ballantine to his house, where Fanshawe is already concealed. Together they kill him, leave the place separately, and travel over to France by the same boat but, for safety’s sake, by different classes.”

“If your theory is right,” the inspector objected, “it doesn’t account for one rather odd fact. Why did Fanshawe, who was in league with James to kill Ballantine in Daylesford Gardens, bother to go to Lothbury on Friday morning and draw attention to himself by threatening him in his own office?”

“Perhaps,” said Frant, “he didn’t then know of James’s plans. Communication with a prisoner isn’t easy, and it may be that it wasn’t until later in the day that he got into touch with James and knew of the preparations that had been made.”