question brought it back to the problem at once.

'About those drinks. You say Mr. Manderson often took no whisky before going
to bed. Did he have any that night?'

'I could not say. The room was put to rights in the morning by one of the
maids, and the glass washed, I presume, as usual. I know that the decanter was
nearly full that evening. I had refilled it a few days before, and I glanced
at it when I brought the fresh syphon, just out of habit, to make sure there
was a decent- looking amount.'

The inspector went to the tall corner-cupboard and opened it. He took out a
decanter of cut glass and set it on the table before Martin. 'Was it fuller
than that?' he asked quietly. 'That's how I found it this morning.' The
decanter was more than half empty.

For the first time Martin's self-possession wavered. He took up the decanter
quickly, tilted it before his eyes, and then stared amazedly at the others. He
said slowly: 'There's not much short of half a bottle gone out of this since I
last set eyes on it--and that was that Sunday night.'

'Nobody in the house, I suppose?' suggested Trent discreetly. 'Out of the
question!' replied Martin briefly; then he added, 'I beg pardon, sir, but this
is a most extraordinary thing to me. Such a thing never happened in all my
experience of Mr. Manderson. As for the women-servants, they never touch
anything, I can answer for it; and as for me, when I want a drink I can help
myself without going to the decanters.' He took up the decanter again and
aimlessly renewed his observation of the contents, while the inspector eyed
him with a look of serene satisfaction, as a master contemplates his
handiwork.