Friday, August 31, 2007

Bioshock keeps pwning my computer. It overheats every five minutes and nukes the machine.

So I'm taking a break to reveal to concerned citizens the solution to the Strange Problem of the Sodding Letterbox Key that cause me a day's worth of grief.

Which great problem-solving mind was proved right in this matter? Was it Jeeves, with his psychology of the individual, or Father Brown with his more visceral insight into the criminal mind?

In fact it was Sherlock Holmes:

"When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth."

Mary swore black and blue that she had placed the key on top of the shelf and left it there (I swore black and blue also, but for no other reason than that the key was lost). And it was clear in my mind (as clear as anything is in my mind - no cruel comments please) that I never touched the key that afternoon. It indeed seemed impossible that either of us had moved it. What remained was the improbable truth, that is to say that someone else moved it.

In my post on Monday night I proposed that this improbability was in the person of a malicious and kleptomaniacal neighbour who snatched it during the few minutes that door remained ajar and unsurveilled. But in fact there was another possibility: that someone entered the flat while Mary and I were out.

Namely Laurent, the owner of the letterbox key and tenant of the flat, who let himself into the flat that afternoon, taking the key in order to check the mail and forgetting to put it back in its place. I heard this through a friend late last night.

THE END

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