“Why not?” said Mary, smiling.
“—very soon Detective-Inspector Tarrant was at the Laire Woollen Mill, conducting a vigorous and detailed investigation.”
“How much money had been stolen?” asked Mary.
“Fifteen hundred pounds.”
“Not a big haul, as hauls go.”
“No. Inspector Tarrant noticed that immediately. The criminals were either small-time thieves, or they were—”
“Somebody in desperate need of such a sum.”
“Exactly. You’ve learned a good deal from your husband, my dear.”
“It seems to me, too,” said Mary thoughtfully, holding up the pullover to judge its length, “that a good deal of local knowledge was required for this robbery.”
“Just what the Inspector said, my dear.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t listen any more for a minute or two,” said Mary. “I have to narrow now, for the armhole.”
“I’m delighted to hear it — it gives me time to plan the next development,” chuckled Miss Phipps.
Presently Mary said, “I’m ready now.”
“Old Mr. Denison and Bob have now joined Arthur in the Laire Woollen Company’s office and are listening to Arthur’s evidence.”
Miss Phipps coughed to clear her throat and began to act her various characters.
“ ‘I suppose the two thieves went out by the side door,’ said Bob thoughtfully.
“ ‘They can’t have done that — I locked it when I left,’ said old Mr. Denison.
“ ‘But they can’t have left by the front door,’ exclaimed Bob.
“ ‘Why not?’ said the Inspector sharply.
“ ‘Because I was standing at the gate, with the front door in full view, for at least ten minutes after the buzzer sounded,’ said Bob.
“ ‘What were you doing there all that time?’ said old Mr. Denison.
“ ‘I was waiting for Catherine, and when she came I was talking to her,’ said Bob.
“At this both Mr. Denison and Arthur scowled at him, and the Inspector gave him a searching look... How do you think it is developing, Mary?” Miss Phipps inquired.
“Arthur is certainly under my suspicion,” said Mary firmly. “That business about the second man — the accomplice — struck me as rather unconvincing. Why have an accomplice? Why not just knock Arthur out yourself and take the cash?”
“You would need to hit Arthur much harder to carry out that plan,” said Miss Phipps. “As it was, a tap that merely stunned and a muffling scarf sufficed.”
“That’s exactly what I mean,” said Mary. “Arthur had to invent some reason for his lack of severe injury — so he concocted this thin story of the second man.”
“And how did he get rid of the money, if he stole it himself?”
“He had a few minutes alone, while he was supposed to be lying unconscious on the floor, you remember. And also while he was waiting for the police. However,” said Mary, “you are telling this story, Aunt Marian, not I.”
“At present, then, your suspicions rest on Arthur?”
“They certainly do.”
“So did Inspector Tarrant’s. Until he found the scarf in which Arthur had been muffled, lying in a corner of the office. It was what you would call a collegiate scarf, Mary — a scarf with huge stripes in pink, black, and gray. It was a Laire University scarf. In fact, it was Bob’s scarf.”
“I don’t see that proves anything,” objected Mary. “Those young men drive about in sports cars wearing huge gloves and enormous woollen collegiate scarves, I grant you. But Bob could easily have left his scarf hanging on a peg in the office. In fact, he must have done so, and the thief simply snatched it up to muffle Arthur.”
“Unfortunately,” said Miss Phipps gravely, “the evidence seemed to indicate that Bob left the office just before the buzzer went, wearing the scarf.”
“Whose evidence?”
“Arthur’s.”
“I don’t believe it. He was simply trying to implicate Bob and support his weak story about the accomplice.”
“And Catherine’s.”
“Catherine’s?” exclaimed Mary. “You mean Catherine said Bob was wearing the scarf?”
“Yes. While waiting for the police to arrive, Arthur telephoned his home to explain to his wife that he would be late and she was not to worry. Hearing the agitation in his voice, she asked what was wrong. He told her in general terms that there had been a robbery and he was awaiting the police. As soon as Catherine reached home and heard this news, she came straight back to the Laire Woollen Company. The Inspector saw her hurrying across the yard, intercepted her, and asked about her talk with Bob at the mill gate.”
“She probably thought Bob had been hurt.”
“Probably — let’s say he aimed at some such impression.”
“Then it was mean to trap the poor girl like that,” said Mary.
“ ‘Do I understand you and Mr. Bob left the mill together, Miss Catherine?’ said the Inspector.
“ ‘No. He left before I did and was waiting for me at the gate.’
“ ‘And you stood there and talked for several minutes?”
“ ‘Yes.’
“ ‘And then what happened?’
“ ‘I walked away towards the bus stop at the top of the road.’
“ ‘And Mr. Bob?’
“ ‘I don’t know what he did then. I presume he walked towards the right of the mill where his car was parked.’
“ ‘Still wearing his muffler?’
“ ‘Yes, of course. Is he hurt, Inspector?’
“ ‘No, no. I take it that he did not offer to drive you home, then?’
“ ‘He did offer to do so, but I declined,’ said Catherine.
“ ‘Was there a quarrel between you, Miss Catherine?’
“ ‘There was a slight disagreement,’ admitted Catherine. ‘But why do you want to know all this, Inspector? What has happened? Is Bob hurt? Is my father hurt? Has there been a robbery?’... And so on.” Miss Phipps paused. “Poor Catherine was very much upset.”
“No wonder!” exclaimed Mary. “This is dreadful, Aunt Marian! It would seem that Bob is guilty.”
“If Arthur’s evidence is truthful, perhaps so. Do you think Bob was the unseen accomplice, then?”
“Presumably. Yes. Yes,” said Mary. “He did not wish to be seen in the act of robbery by Arthur, so he remained outside until Arthur was knocked out. His guilt would explain, too, why Arthur was not severely injured — Bob did not wish to hurt Catherine’s father.”
“Bob gave his scarf to the young thief who had first entered the office, then?”
“I suppose so,” said Mary, but there was a doubtful note in her voice. “It seems a silly thing to do, I must admit. What did Bob say about the scarf?”
“At first he could not account for its presence in the office at all. Then he remembered that he had found the battery of his car run down, and had had to use the starting-handle. It seemed to him that he probably threw off his scarf while using the handle, but he could not remember with certainty.”