Sleuth

Dr. Grayson was never in london

at the time of the murder.

In fact, the good doctor stayed in a small

hotel in Melksham on the night in question.

He then returned to Broughton Gifford

on the 2:
40 train...

disguised as Sir Mortimer

turret's Valet, Burton,

making sure his arrival was

noted by the ticket inspector.

From then on, his plan was

simplicity itself.

Knowing it was Burton's day off,

he had no difficulty in entering

Hellrake Hall unobserved...

And murdering Sir Mortimer with the

arrow from the astrolabe...

which he had sharpened

on the stone knife grinder

by the scullery window.

"Remember my query about

brass knives at the time ?

I was worried about

those metal shavings."

"By jove, Lord Merridew, sir,

"You don't miss a trick.

But since you appear

to know so much, sir,"

continued the inspector humbly,

"I wonder if you would explain

how the murderer managed to

leave the body of his victim...

"in the middle of the tennis

court and effect his escape...

"without leaving any tracks

behind him in the red dust.

Frankly, sir, we in the Police

Force are just plain baffled."

St. John Lord Merridew,

the great detective,

rose majestically,

his huge Father Christmas face

glowing with mischievous delight.

Slowly, he brushed the

crumbs of seedy cake...

from the folds of his

pendulous waistcoat.

"The Police may be baffled,

Inspector," he boomed,

"But Merridew is not.

"Thirty years ago, the

murderer, Dr. Grayson,

was a prominent member

of the Ballets Russes,

dancing under the name

of Oleg Graysinski.

And though the years had

altered his appearance somewhat,

yet his old skill

had not deserted him.

He carried the body to

the center of the court,

walking on his points...

along the white tape which separated

the service boxes, and from there...

he threw it seven feet into the court,

close to the baseline where it was found.

And then, with a neatly executed fouett,

he faced about and went

back the way he had come,

thus leaving no traces.

And that, Inspector, is

Merridew's solution."

Hello !

Are you there ?

Mr. Wyke ?

- Mr. Wyke ?

- Who's there ?

It's me, Milo Tindle.

I think you're expecting me.

Yes, indeed. So good of you to come.

Won't you join me ?

Well, I have been trying to do

exactly that for quite some time.

Here we are.

Yes, my outdoor inner sanctum.

I designed it myself.

Provides for me just that extra bit

of privacy that an author requires.

I must say, you're not an

easy man to drop in on.

Just so. So, you're Milo Tindle.

- I'm Andrew Wyke. Welcome to Cloak Manor.

- Thank you.

I found your note when I came down

from London this afternoon.

Oh, good. Yes.

I hoped you'd be here this weekend,

so I pushed it through your letter

box a little earlier today.

Well, now, what will

you have to drink ?

- Uh, vodka and tonic, please.

- Ah. Of course.

- How are you settling in here

at laundry cottage ?

- Very well, thank you.

Using it for weekends,

that sort of thing ?

Yes, that sort of thing.

Vodka-- I don't seem to

have any out here. Is--

- Gin will do.

- Good.

Charming little place,

Laundry cottage--

Ideal for relaxations of all kinds.

Unfortunately, I don't

have time for them myself.

As a matter of fact, I've just

dictated the denouement...

of my new book,

Death by double fault.

I must say, it's gone extremely well.

Ah, then.

Soda, soda, soda, soda--

Oh, dear. Doesn't seem to be

any tonic here either.

It's awful.

Here, shall we go indoors ?

- Whatever you like.

- Good.

Tell me, do you agree that

the detective story is...

the normal recreation of noble minds ?

I'm afraid I don't know

very much about noble minds.

- Is it supposed to be ?

- I'm quoting from Philip Guedalla,

a biographer of the '30s,

the golden age when every Cabinet Minister

had a thriller by his bedside,

and all detectives were titled.

- Before your time, I expect.

- Somewhat. Let me carry that.

Oh, thank you so much. Very good of you.

Yet, you know, even today, I still

set my works among the gentry,

and a great many ordinary people

seem to enjoy them in spite of

our classless society.

I imagine they do a great deal

of your stuff on television.

Oh, God forbid. I'd never permit it.

And, uh, incidentally,

it's not "stuff." No.

Television's not my line

of country at all.

That's detective fact,

not detective fiction.

And, therefore,

no recreation for noble minds ?

You have it in a nutshell, my dear Milo,

if I may so address you.

Oh, you might as well. We're all on

first-name terms these days, Andrew.

Of course we are. And you and I do

need to be friendly, do we not ?

How do you like your drink-- with ice ?

With ice ?

Uh, yes, please.

What does he do ?

Oh, that's Jolly Jack Tar,

the jovial sailor.

He and I have a really

splendid relationship.

I make the jokes,

and he laughs at them.

Here, mein Freund. Put

that behind your necktie.

- He didn't laugh.

- No, he wasn't meant to.

- I thought you were trying to be funny.

- You'll know it when I am.

- I see. Cheers.

- Prost.

- What's this ?

- That is an intensely complicated...

fourth dynasty blocking game called Senat.

I've been studying the thing for months,

but I'm still only a beginner.

I wonder if you'd mind putting

that back. It's taken me rather

a long time to get it there.

The center column,

fourth from your right.

Well, now,

I understand you want to marry my wife.

Forgive me raising the matter,

but as Marguerite is away for

a few days in the north...

visiting relatives, I thought this

might be an appropriate moment...

for you and me to have a little chat.

- I see.

- Well, uh, is it true ?

Yes. With your permission, of course.

Why not ? You seem to be a personable

enough young man-- nicely spoken,

neatly dressed in brand-new

country gentleman's clothing.

I'm sure you won't mind me asking you

a few questions about your background--

parents and so forth.

My mother was born in Hereford,

a farmer's daughter,

And my father is an Italian who came

to this country in the '30s from Genoa.

- In the '30s. Jewish ?

- No, catholic-- very devout.

Of course, I'm not

religious at all myself.

My dear boy, you don't have to excuse

yourself to me. We're all liberals here.

I have no prejudice against catholics,

Not even lapsed catholics.

In fact, some of my best friends

are lapsed catholics.

But tell me about your father.

Was his name Tindle too ?

No, his name was Tindolini.

But if you had a name

like that in those days,

you had to make-a de ice cream-a.

He was a watchmaker,

and he wanted us to become

English, so he changed it.

"Become" English.

Was he a successful man ?

No. As a matter of fact, he wasn't.

You can't expect to make a living

these days just repairing watches.

He went broke in the end.

I always told him he would.

Hmm. Well, it must make him

something of a burden to you.

Yeah, it-it does a bit.

He never went back, you see.

He's still in Soho, still thinks

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