Markham palliatingly. "He has completely forgiven you for everything."
Vance smiled.
"The amount of credit and emulsification he received in the afternoon papers would have mellowed anyone. He should even forgive the Major for hitting him.—A clever blow, that; based on rotary leverage. Heath's constitution must be tough, or he wouldn't have recovered so quickly. . . . And poor Phelps! He'll have a horror of knees the rest of his life."
"You certainly guessed the Major's reaction," said Markham. "I'm almost ready to grant there's something in your psychological flummery, after all. Your æsthetic deductions seemed to put you on the right track."
After a pause he turned and looked inquisitively at Vance.
"Tell me exactly why, at the outset, you were convinced of the Major's guilt?"
Vance settled back in his chair.
"Consider, for a moment, the characteristics—the outstanding features—of the crime. Just before the shot was fired Benson and the murderer undoubtedly had been talking or arguing—the one seated, the other standing. Then Benson had pretended to read: he had said all he had to say. His reading was his gesture of finality; for one doesn't read when conversing with another unless for a purpose. The murderer, seeing the hopelessness of the situation, and having come prepared to meet it heroically, took out a gun, aimed it at Benson's temple, and pulled the trigger. After that, he turned out the lights and
