"The color of it, I mean. When Mr. Benson sat before you under the table-lamp, didn't you remark some—difference, let us say—in the way his hair looked?"
The man closed his eyes, as if striving to visualize the scene.
"No—I don't remember."
"A minor point," said Vance indifferently. "Did Benson's speech strike you as peculiar when he came downstairs—that is, was there a thickness, or slight impediment of any kind, in his voice?"
Leacock was manifestly puzzled.
"I don't know what you mean," he said. "He seemed to talk the way he always talked."
"And did you happen to see a blue jewel-case on the table?"
"I didn't notice."
Vance smoked a moment thoughtfully.
"When you left the room after shooting Mr. Benson, you turned out the lights, of course?"
When no immediate answer came, Vance volunteered the suggestion:
"You must have done so, for Mr. Pfyfe says the house was dark when he drove up."
Leacock then nodded an affirmative.
"That's right. I couldn't recollect for the moment."
"Now that you remember the fact, just how did you turn them off?"
"I" he began, and stopped. Then, finally: "At the switch."
"And where is that switch located, Captain?"
"I can't just recall."
