yet the trainer was sufficiently rich to offer his son and his bride a very beautiful home."
The man in the corner called to the waitress, and paid for his glass of milk and cheesecake, whilst I remained absorbed in thought, gazing at the Daily Telegraph, which in its "London Day by Day" had this very morning announced that Mr. and Lady Agnes Keeson had returned to town from "The Rookery," Newmarket.
[It is at this point that you should close The Royal and attempt to solve the mystery for yourselves.—Ed.]
V.
"But who poisoned Cigarette?" I asked after a while; "and why?"
"Ah, who did, I wonder?" he replied with exasperating mildness.
"Surely you have a theory?" I suggested.
"Ah, but my theories are not worth considering. The police would take no notice of them."
"Why did Mrs. Keeson go to the stables that night? Did she go?" I asked.
"Cockram swears she did."
"She swears she didn't. If she did why should she have asked for her son? Surely she did not wish to incriminate her son in order to save herself?"
"No," he replied; "women don't save themselves usually at the expense of their children, and women don't usually 'hocus' a horse. It is not a female crime at all—is it?"
The aggravating creature was getting terribly sarcastic; and I began to fear that he was not going to speak, after all. He was looking dejectedly all around him. I had one or two parcels by me. I undid a piece of string from one of them, and handed it to him with the most perfectly indifferent air I could command.
"I wonder if it was Cockram who told a lie," I then said unconcernedly.
But already he had seized on that bit of string, and, nervously now, his long fingers began fashioning a series of complicated knots.
"Let us take things from the beginning," he said at last. "The beginning of the mystery was the contradictory statements made by the groom Cockram and Mrs. Keeson respectively. Let us take, first of all, the question of the groom. The matter is simple enough: either he saw Mrs. Keeson or he did not. If he did not see her then he must have told a lie, either unintentionally or by design—unintentionally if he was mistaken; but this could not very well be since he asserted that Mrs. Keeson spoke to him and even mentioned her son, Mr. Harold Keeson. Therefore, if Cockram did not see Mrs. Keeson he told a lie by design for some purpose of his own. You follow me?"
"Yes," I replied; "I have thought all that out for myself already."
"Very well. Now, could there be some even remotely plausible motive why Cockram should have told that deliberate lie?"
"To save his sweetheart, Alice Image," I said.
"But you forget that his sweetheart was not accused at first and that, from the very beginning, Cockram's manner, when questioned on the subject of the events of that night, was strange and contradictory in the extreme."
"He may have known from the first that Alice Image was guilty," I argued.
"In that case he would have merely asserted that he had seen and heard nothing during the night, or, if he wished to lie about it, he would have said that it was Palk, the tout, who sneaked into the stables, rather than incriminate his mistress, who had been good and kind to him for years."
"He may have wished to be revenged on Mrs. Keeson for some reason which has not yet transpired."
"How? By making a statement which, if untrue, could be so easily disproved by Mr. Keeson himself, who, as a matter of fact, could easily assert that his wife did not leave her bedroom that night; or by incriminating Mr. Harold Keeson, who could prove an alibi? Not much of a revenge there, you must admit. No, no; the more you reflect seriously upon these possibilities the deeper will become your conviction that Cockram did not lie either accidentally or on purpose; that he did see Mrs. Keeson at that hour at the stable-door; that she did speak to him; and that it was she who told the lie in open court."
"But," I asked, feeling more bewildered than before, "why should Mrs. Keeson have gone to the stables and asked for her son when she must have known that he was not there but that her enquiry would make it, to say the least, extremely unpleasant for him?"
"Why?" he shrieked excitedly, jumping up like a veritable jack-in-the-box. "Ah, if you would only learn to reflect you might in time become a fairly able journalist. Why did Mrs. Keeson momentarily incriminate
