I held the whisky out to him, so that he could see how calm my nerves were.

"Vigot, I wish you'd tell me why you think I was concerned in Pyle's death. Is it a question of motive? That I wanted Phuong back? Or do you imagine it was revenge for losing her?"

"No. I'm not so stupid. One doesn't take one's enemy's book as a souvenir. There it is on your shelf. The Role of the West. Who is this York Harding?"

"He's the man you are looking for, Vigot. He killed Pyle - at long range."

"I don't understand."

"He's a superior sort of journalist - they call them diplomatic correspondents. He gets hold of an idea and then alters every situation to fit the idea. Pyle came out here full of York Harding's idea. Harding had been here once for a week on his way from Bangkok to Tokyo. Pyle made the mistake of putting his idea into practice. Harding wrote about a Third Force. Pyle formed one - a shoddy little bandit with two thousand men and a couple of tame tigers. He got mixed up."

"You never do, do you?"

"I've tried not to be."

"But you failed, Fowler." For some reason I thought of Captain Trouin and that night which seemed to have happened years ago in the Haiphong opium-house. What was it he had said? something about all of us getting involved sooner or later in a moment of emotion. I said,

"You would have made a good priest, Vigot. What is it about you that would make it so easy to confess - if there were anything to confess?"

"I have never wanted any confessions."

"But you've received them?"

"From time to time."

"Is it because like a priest it's your job not to be shocked, but to be sympathetic? 'M. Flic, I must tell you exactly why I battered in the old lady's skull.' 'Yes, Gustave, take your time and tell me why it was.' "

"You have a whimsical imagination. Aren't you drinking, Fowler?"

"Surely it's unwise for a criminal to drink with a police officer?"

"I have never said you were a criminal."

"But suppose the drink unlocked even in me the desire to confess? There are no secrets of the confessional in your profession."

"Secrecy is seldom important to a man who confesses: even when it's to a priest. He has other motives."

"To cleanse himself?"

"Not always. Sometimes he only wants to see himself clearly as he is. Sometimes he is just weary of deception. You are not a criminal, Fowler, but I would like to know why you lied to me. You saw Pyle the night he died." "What gives you that idea?"

"I don't for a moment think you killed him. You would hardly have used a rusty bayonet."

"Rusty?"

"Those are the kind of details we get from an autopsy. I told you, though, that was not the cause of death. Dakow mud." He held out his glass for another whisky. "Let me see now. You had a drink at the Continental at six ten?"

"Yes."

"And at six forty-five you were talking to another journalist at the door of the Majestic?"

"Yes, Wilkins. I told you all this, Vigot, before. That night."

"Yes. I've checked up since then. It's wonderful how you carry such petty details in your head."

"I'm a reporter, Vigot."

"Perhaps the times are not quite accurate, but nobody could blame you, could they, if you were a quarter of an hour out here and ten minutes out there. You had no reason to think the time’s important. Indeed how suspicious it would be if you had been completely accurate."

"Haven't I been?"

"Not quite. It was at five to seven that you talked to Wilkins."

"Another ten minutes."

"Of course. As I said. And it had only just struck six when you arrived at the Continental."

"My watch is always a little fast," I said. "What time do you make it now?"

"Ten eight."

"Ten eighteen by mine. You see."

He didn't bother to look. He said, "Then the time you said you talked to Wilkins was twenty-five minutes out - by your watch. That's quite a mistake, isn't it?"

"Perhaps I re-adjusted the time in my mind. Perhaps I'd corrected my watch that day. I sometimes do."

"What interests me," Vigot said, "(could I have a little more soda? - you have made this rather strong) is that you are not at all angry with me. It is not very nice to be questioned as I am questioning you."

"I find it interesting, like a detective-story. And, after all, you know I didn't kill Pyle - you've said so."