"I do not know much about champagne, but it
seems to me that this has not been opened very long. By the by, you all
drank champagne?" he went on. "I see no trace of any spirits about."
"It was one of Lord Dredlinton's hobbles," Wingate declared. "Spirits are
very seldom served in this house."
The Inspector nodded. He had crossed to the sideboard and was looking
into the contents of a great bowl of flowers.
"I never heard," he reflected, "that roses did well in champagne. Let me
see," he proceeded, counting the empty bottles, "four bottles between
four of you, the contents of at least two bottles here, and--dear me, the
carnations, too!" he went on, peering into a further bowl. "Really, Mr.
Wingate, your orgy scarcely seems to have been one of drink."
"Perhaps it was not," was the resigned reply.
The inspector sighed.
"I have seldom," he pronounced, looking fixedly at his companion, "seen a
more amateurish piece of work than the arrangement of this so-called
debauch. It seems pitiable, Mr. Wingate, that a man with brains like
yours should have sought to deceive in so puerile a fashion."
"What is this leading up to?" Wingate demanded.
The inspector drew a little pamphlet from his pocket and passed it
across. Wingate took it into his hands, opened it and stared at it
in surprise.
"A list of Cunard sailings!" he exclaimed.
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