This case is closed. The footprints are size ten, and the sole beneficiary of Herbert Walston's will and insurance policies is Lomax Chase. My men have measured Chase's foot and it is exactly size ten. His only alibi is that he had been in Uxton with an unspecified friend, and was home sleeping. In that case I should say, Inspector Fortis, that your department has fired before it has had the opportunity to see the whites in the eyes of the invader.
Murder often defies reason.
Well sir, this is a free country, DuFarge, much freer than that swamp of a nation of truffle eaters you're from, and so you're entitled to your opinions, but in this case I'm sorry to say you are simply wrong. I said, taking leave of my colleague. I caught up with Stanley, the discharged butler, in the sparsely furnished hotel room he holed up in after his frequent pub debaucheries. Greased hair parted down the middle, he looked more like a roustabout than a servant with his wide blue suspenders, huge black shoes, and black, cunning eyes. Drinking from a hotel glass, he worked on a nearly-empty bottle of Seagrams beside him on the table.