Mr. Snyder narrowed his eyes and rang the bell. "Send Mr. Oakes to me
directly he arrives," he said.
He was pained to find that his chief emotion was one of bitter
annoyance. The swift solution of such an apparently insoluble problem
would reflect the highest credit on the Agency, and there were
picturesque circumstances connected with the case which would make it
popular with the newspapers and lead to its being given a great deal of
publicity.
Yet, in spite of all this, Mr. Snyder was annoyed. He realized now how
large a part the desire to reduce Oakes' self-esteem had played with
him. He further realized, looking at the thing honestly, that he had
been firmly convinced that the young man would not come within a mile
of a reasonable solution of the mystery. He had desired only that his
failure would prove a valuable educational experience for him. For he
believed that failure at this particular point in his career would make
Oakes a more valuable asset to the Agency. But now here Oakes was,
within a ridiculously short space of time, returning to the fold, not
humble and defeated, but triumphant. Mr. Snyder looked forward with
apprehension to the young man's probable demeanor under the
intoxicating influence of victory.
His apprehensions were well grounded. He had barely finished the third
of the series of cigars, which, like milestones, marked the progress of
his afternoon, when the door opened and young Oakes entered. Mr. Snyder
could not repress a faint moan at the sight of him. One glance was
enough to tell him that his worst fears were realised.
"I got your telegram," said Mr. Snyder.
Oakes nodded. "It surprised you, eh?" he asked.
Mr. Snyder resented the patronizing tone of the question, but he had
resigned himself to be patronized, and keep his anger in check.
"Yes," he replied, "I must say it did surprise me. I didn't gather from
your report that you had even found a clue. Was it the Indian theory
that turned the trick?"
Oakes laughed tolerantly. "Oh, I never really believed that
preposterous theory for one moment. I just put it in to round out my
report. I hadn't begun to think about the case then--not really think."
Mr. Snyder, nearly exploding with wrath, extended his cigar-case.
"Light up, and tell me all about it," he said, controlling his anger.
"Well, I won't say I haven't earned this," said Oakes, puffing away. He
let the ash of his cigar fall delicately to the floor--another action
which seemed significant to his employer. As a rule, his assistants,
unless particularly pleased with themselves, used the ashtray.
"My first act on arriving," Oakes said, "was to have a talk with Mrs.
Pickett. A very dull old woman."
"Curious. She struck me as rather intelligent."
"Not on your life. She gave me no assistance whatever. I then examined
the room where the death had taken place. It was exactly as you described
it. There was no chimney, the door had been locked on the inside, and
the one window was very high up. At first sight, it looked extremely
unpromising. Then I had a chat with some of the other boarders. They had
nothing of any importance to contribute. Most of them simply gibbered.
I then gave up trying to get help from the outside, and resolved to rely
on my own intelligence."
He smiled triumphantly. "It is a theory of mine, Mr. Snyder, which I
have found valuable that, in nine cases out of ten, remarkable things
don't happen."
"I don't quite follow you there," Mr. Snyder interrupted.
"I will put it another way, if you like. What I mean is that the simplest
explanation is nearly always the right one. Consider this case. It seemed
impossible that there should have been any reasonable explanation of the
man's death. Most men would have worn themselves out guessing at wild
theories. If I had started to do that, I should have been guessing now.
As it is--here I am. I trusted to my belief that nothing remarkable ever
happens, and I won out."
Mr. Snyder sighed softly. Oakes was entitled to a certain amount of
gloating, but there could be no doubt that his way of telling a story
was downright infuriating.
"I believe in the logical sequence of events. I refuse to accept
effects unless they are preceded by causes. In other words, with all
due respect to your possibly contrary opinions, Mr. Snyder, I simply
decline to believe in a murder unless there was a motive for it. The
first thing I set myself to ascertain was--what was the motive for the
murder of Captain Gunner? And, after thinking it over and making every
possible inquiry, I decided that there was no motive. Therefore, there
was no murder."
Mr. Snyder's mouth opened, and he obviously was about to protest. But
he appeared to think better of it and Oakes proceeded: "I then tested
the suicide theory. What motive was there for suicide? There was no
motive. Therefore, there was no suicide."
This time Mr. Snyder spoke. "You haven't been spending the last few
days in the wrong house by any chance, have you? You will be telling me
next that there wasn't any dead man."
Oakes smiled. "Not at all. Captain John Gunner was dead, all right. As
the medical evidence proved, he died of the bite of a cobra. It was a
small cobra which came from Java."