something else. The lady's maid says he looked as if something was going to
arrive. It's always easy to remember that people looked like that, after
something has happened to them. Still, that's what they say. There you are
again, then: suicide! Now, why wasn't it suicide, Mr. Trent?'

'The facts so far as I know them are really all against it,' Trent replied,
sitting on the threshold of the window and clasping his knees. 'First, of
course, no weapon is to be found. I've searched, and you've searched, and
there's no trace of any firearm anywhere within a stone's throw of where the
body lay. Second, the marks on the wrists, fresh scratches and bruises, which
we can only assume to have been done in a struggle with somebody. Third, who
ever heard of anybody shooting himself in the eye? Then I heard from the
manager of the hotel here another fact, which strikes me as the most curious
detail in this affair. Manderson had dressed himself fully before going out
there, but he forgot his false teeth. Now how could a suicide who dressed
himself to make a decent appearance as a corpse forget his teeth?'

'That last argument hadn't struck me,' admitted Mr. Murch. 'There's something
in it. But on the strength of the other points, which had occurred to me, I am
not considering suicide. I have been looking about for ideas in this house,
this morning. I expect you were thinking of doing the same.'

'That is so. It is a case for ideas, it seems to me. Come, Murch, let us make
an effort; let us bend our spirits to a temper of general suspicion. Let us
suspect everybody in the house, to begin with. Listen: I will tell you whom I
suspect. I suspect Mrs. Manderson, of course. I also suspect both the
secretaries--I hear there are two, and I hardly know which of them I regard as
more thoroughly open to suspicion. I suspect the butler and the lady's maid. I
suspect the other domestics, and especially do I suspect the boot-boy. By the
way, what domestics are there? I have more than enough suspicion to go round,