GORE’S explanation of the incident which took place on Cleveport links in that ditch near the fourteenth tee is, perhaps, of some interest.
‘When I saw that ball whizzing off for the ditch,’ he says, ‘I was pretty sure that it had gone into the ditch, but not quite. As I went after it, the idea occurred to me: “Suppose I were to find two balls now—both new Red Kings—one in the ditch and unplayable, and the other, say, just at the edge of the ditch in a good lie. Which ball would one select as one’s own?” Of course such a thing was absolutely unlikely, and the idea was a futile sort of idea enough—the sort of thing that comes into one’s head without any particular reason and goes out of it and leads to nothing. And of course I did find no ball in a nice lie at the edge of that ditch. But somehow my mind jumped from that idea—I had nothing to do with its jumping—it just jumped, and I found myself wondering if there could have been anyone mixed up with Barrington and Frensham who was sufficiently like Arndale to be easily mistaken for him. And then my mind made another jump to the only person I could think of who had been mixed up in the business and who was anything at all like Arndale—Thomson. I had no sooner thought of Thomson than I began to think of a dozen different things connected with him, all at once. I remembered that I had seen him in a light-coloured raincoat—the afternoon he called to see me about a recommendation to Melhuish. I remembered that he had called at Melhuish’s house the afternoon the knife had disappeared for the second time from the hall. I remembered that he had been connected with Barrington in looking after his car for him. I remembered that he had been in a great hurry to get away from the Kinnairds’ employment into Melhuish’s. I remembered that he was a big, powerful chap. I remembered his face. But I think the thing that really first convinced me that I was on the right track was my remembering that Mrs Barrington’s maid had called him “Fred”. I don’t know why that had stuck—but it had stuck. I suppose I remembered everything connected with that afternoon Barrington was found especially distinctly. At all events I remembered quite distinctly that the maid had called out “Fred” to him, and I was almost certain that he had signed himself Alfred in the note which he had left for Melhuish giving the Kinnairds’ address, and which Melhuish showed me the evening I dined with him. Well, if his name was Alfred, a person who knew him well enough to call him by his Christian name might call him “Fred”, but it seemed hardly likely. “Alf”, perhaps—or even “Alfie”—if not full “Alfred”, but hardly “Fred”. Of course then I asked myself, why, if his name was Frederick, should he have changed it into Alfred. That puzzled me, until I remembered that one of the slips in the pocket of Barrington’s bank-book which was found amongst Frensham’s things at the Excelsior, concerned someone whose initials were F. T. If Frederick Thomson knew that Frensham had that slip in his possession, and if he meant to murder Frensham—it seemed to me that he might, if he was an intelligent, careful person, decide to alter his name to Alfred Thomson. The Kinnairds were away—that made it easier. It was a long shot—but, as a matter of fact, Thomson was quite an intelligent sort of person up to a certain point. Still, I admit I rather patted myself on the back when I found that the Rodney girl had been altering the F’s on his collars and things to A’s.
‘So I was actually getting somewhere near the bone when Stevens turned up. Though of course it was really Stevens who recovered those letters for me. If he hadn’t—’
But that hypothesis of Colonel Gore’s is clearly of no importance.
There is a sergeant of the Westmouth City Police who sometimes, in his spare moments, wonders a little about Colonel Gore. His name is Long, and he is an extremely intelligent and thoughtful officer. As, however, he has a wife and a large family, and has long ago learned the imprudence—in the Westmouth City Police Force at all events—of doing anything in a hurry, it is probable that he will continue to wonder for some time to come.
THE END