ruled out. Then there's revenge. You haven't seduced a chemist's daughter, by any chance?' 'Not that I can remember,' said Bobby with dignity.
'I know. One seduces so much that one can't keep count. But I should say offhand that you've never seduced anyone at all.' 'You're making me blush, Frankie. And why must it be a chemist's daughter, anyway?' 'Free access to morphia. It's not so easy to get hold of morphia.' 'Well, I haven't seduced a chemist's daughter.' 'And you haven't got any enemies that you know of?' Bobby shook his head.
'Well, there you are,' said Frankie triumphantly. 'It must be the man who was pushed over the cliff. What do the police think?' 'They think it must have been a lunatic.' 'Nonsense. Lunatics don't wander about with unlimited supplies of morphia looking for odd bottles of beer to put it into. No, somebody pushed Pritchard over the cliff. A minute or two later you come along and he thinks you saw him do it and so determines to put you out of the way.' 'I don't think that will hold water, Frankie.' 'Why not?' 'Well, to begin with, I didn't see anything.' 'Yes, but he didn't know that.' 'And if I had seen anything, I should have said so at the inquest.' 'I suppose that's so,' said Frankie unwillingly.
She thought for a minute or two.
'Perhaps he thought you'd seen something that you didn't think was anything but which really was something. That sounds pure gibberish, but you get the idea?' Bobby nodded.
'Yes, I see what you mean, but it doesn't seem very probable, somehow.' 'I'm sure that cliff business had something to do with this.
You were on the spot - the first person to be there -' 'Thomas was there, too,' Bobby reminded her. 'And nobody's tried to poison him.' 'Perhaps they're going to,' said Frankie cheerfully. 'Or perhaps they've tried and failed.' 'It all seems very farfetched.' 'I think it's logical. If you get two out of the way things happening in a stagnant pond like Marchbolt - wait - there's a third thing.' 'What?' 'That job you were offered. That, of course, is quite a small thing, but it was odd, you must admit. I've never heard of a foreign firm that specialized in seeking out undistinguished exNaval officers.' 'Did you say undistinguished?' 'You hadn't got into the BMJ, then. But you see my point.
You've seen something you weren't meant to see - or so they (whoever they are) think. Very well. They first try to get rid of you by offering you a job abroad. Then, when that fails, they try to put you out of the way altogether.' 'Isn't that rather drastic? And anyway a great risk to take?' 'Oh! but murderers are always frightfully rash. The more murders they do, the more murders they want to do.' 'Like The Third Bloodstain,' said Bobby, remembering one of his favourite works of fiction.
'Yes, and in real life, too - Smith and his wives and Armstrong and people.' 'Well, but, Frankie, what on earth is it I'm supposed to have seen?' 'That, of course, is the difficulty,' admitted Frankie. 'I agree that it can't have been the actual pushing, because you would have told about that. It must be something about the man himself. Perhaps he had a birthmark or double-jointed fingers or some strange physical peculiarity.' 'Your mind is running on Dr Thomdyke, I see. It couldn't be anything like that because whatever I saw the police would see as well.' 'So they would. That was an idiotic suggestion. It's very difficult, isn't it?' 'It's a pleasing theory,' said Bobby. 'And it makes me feel important, but all the same, I don't believe it's much more than a theory.' 'I'm sure I'm right.' Frankie rose. 'I must be off now. Shall I come and see you again tomorrow?' 'Oh! Do. The arch chatter of the nurses gets very monotonous.
By the way, you're back from London very soon?' 'My dear, as soon as I heard about you, I tore back. It's most exciting to have a romantically poisoned friend.' 'I don't know whether morphia is so very romantic,' said Bobby reminiscently.
'Well, I'll come tomorrow. Do I kiss