“Of course we’re suspected,” snapped Wain. “Father Brown kindly explained to me how I could have besieged the tower in a flying-machine.”
“No,” replied the priest, with a smile; “you described to me how you could have done it. That was just the interesting part of it.”
“He seemed to think it likely,” growled Crake, “that I killed him myself with a Red Indian arrow.”
“I thought it most unlikely,” said Father Brown, making rather a wry face. “I’m sorry if I did wrong, but I couldn’t think of any other way of testing the matter. I can hardly think of anything more improbable than the notion that Captain Wain went careering in a huge machine past the window, at the very moment of the murder, and nobody noticed it; unless, perhaps, it were the notion that a respectable old gentleman should p
