Free Appleby Talking by Michael Innes

Italy.”
    “Italy?” The Vicar cracked a nut with the air of bringing off an epigram. “Then Hannibal must have crossed the Alps.”
    “Certainly he did.” Appleby smiled tolerantly. “He did so by rail and through the Mont Cenis – which got him and his manservant back to Victoria round about seven p.m. They drove straight home in a taxi. Sir Hannibal, after satisfying himself that his collection was safe and sound, went to his bedroom to change. And Snake employed himself in preparing a light supper. So much is certain.
    “At ten o’clock that night a married sister of Sir Hannibal’s named Mrs Gracie called to welcome home her brother on his return from abroad. Having got no answer to her ring on the doorbell, she let herself in with a latchkey – something she commonly had when her brother was away, so that she could drop in from time to time and keep an eye on things. She found the flat in disorder, the greater part of the collection gone, and her brother shot dead in his dining-room.”
    The QC set down his glass. “You suspected Snake?”
    “We came to suspect him strongly, although at first he told a story that seemed innocent enough. On his serving the meal he had prepared, his employer asked him if he wanted to go out. He replied that he would like to. He, too, had a sister, to whom he was anxious to give an account of his holiday. And on the chance that he might be free, he had suggested to her by letter that she come round at nine o’clock and wait for him in some caretaker’s room downstairs. This apparently was a common rendezvous for people working in this block of flats. Sir Hannibal at once agreed, adding that he would breakfast in his bedroom, and that the present meal could be cleared up by a woman who came in during the morning.
    “And now I come to the clock. Snake withdrew, and Sir Hannibal told him to leave the dining-room door open. He had a notion that he might not be able to hear the doorbell, if Mrs Gracie did call.
    “Ten minutes later Snake – if his story was to be believed – left the flat. He didn’t glance into the dining-room, since it would have been impolite, apparently, to meet his employer’s eye. But he did glance at a large mirror in the hall. It showed him Sir Hannibal sitting over his wine just as we are doing now. And it showed him the clock. Wondering whether his sister would yet be waiting downstairs, he took the trouble to read the clock. He could see that it was going, for it had one of those second-hands that sweep across the whole dial. And it said precisely nine o’clock. Snake seemed quite clear-headed about this. It had the appearance of reading three o’clock, because – as I have said – he was, of course, seeing its image in reverse.
    “Well, out Snake went – and within a couple of minutes was conversing with his sister, a caretaker, and another private servant. He had left his employer alive and well. Or so he said.”
    The QC picked up the decanter again in great absence of mind. “Snake,” he said, “was in an unpleasant position.”
    “It was to become much more unpleasant quite soon. At first, there seemed to be various possibilities. Sir Hannibal’s body was found by the open door of his dining-room. It seemed plausible that somebody might have rung the doorbell, been admitted, and then been led into or towards the dining-room to be interviewed. The direction of the shots – there had been three of them – were consistent with this. One had buried itself in the mantelpiece; another had hit the clock, which was standing on the mantelpiece; and the third had shot Sir Hannibal through the forehead. It looked as if a thoroughly nervous criminal had taken two rapid shots at him ineffectively from behind, and had then got him squarely above the eyes as he swung round.”
    The Vicar sighed. “And all to clear the way to a collection of miniatures. What an incredibly brutal crime!”
    “Quite so. There was, of course, the question of the