Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine. Vol. 38, No. 13, Mid-December 1993

A man entered a pub and asked for a drink. The barmaid took one look at him, reached under the bar, and took out a gun. She pointed the gun at the man who, after a startled pause, said, “Thank you,” and left the premises.

The interrogation started immediately.

DUPIN: Was the gun real? (Irrelevant, but for the sake of argument, I’ll say yes.)

CHAPLAIN: Was he about to commit a holdup? (No.)

WAYKEN: Was he dressed in an odd way? (No.)

DEDUCTO: You’re all a bunch of fools. Why not ask the question directly: Did he appear to be a threat to the barmaid? (No.)

DUPIN: Have you left something out? (Yes, the solution.)

CHAPLAIN: Was his behavior unusual, did he suffer from a disease? (Yes and no.)

CHAPLAIN: How can you answer “yes” and “no”? (You asked two questions; I gave two answers.)

DUPIN: If the barmaid were a barman, would the same events have occurred? (Good question! Yes!)

WAYKEN: Was he unusually tall or short; did his height have anything to do with the story? (Please — all of you — dismiss your obsession with height; it has nothing to do with this puzzle. The question is irrelevant.)

DEDUCTO: In the past, I worked extensively with codes. Perhaps we should look for a similar twist. I now ask if your events contain a hidden meaning. (Dr. Deducto, please wipe that smirk off your face... no!)

At this point, I saw that my questioners were starting to unravel at the seams a bit, and I tried to slow things down by asking for a drink, hoping that they might see some relevance in that. Mr. Chaplain, ex-padre, said somewhat stiffly, “I’m sorry. We all abstain from hard liquor, and there is none here.”

I nodded and suggested that we get back to the issue at hand.

DUPIN — smugly—: Thank you for the hint. Obviously, you are trying to tell us that the man was exceedingly drunk. Was the barmaid trying to frighten the man away?

WAYKEN: Pull yourself together, Dupin. Of course the answer will be no. We were told that every word given us was relevant. Why in the world would a drunk wanting a drink say “thank you” to a person pointing a gun at him?

CHAPLAIN: Let me take another stab at it. Is it possible that the man was so hideously deformed that the barmaid could not stand the sight of him? (Again, you have missed the point. Why would this frightful person say “thank you”?)

Once more my hosts started muttering among themselves. Wayken, Chaplain, and Deducto threw out suggestions and counter-suggestions, each peering suspiciously at me, wondering if this whole thing were a hoax.

Dupin, on the other hand was uncharacteristically quiet. She sat there, eyes closed, head thrown back, nostrils aflare much like a dog on the scent. She twitched her mouth in a tiny smile and said, “I have just three questions...”

DUPIN: Did he want a drink of liquor? (No.)

    Did the bartender know that? (Yes.)

    Did the gun really frighten him? (Yes.)

I knew then that I had lost the battle of wits, or should I say the battle of heights. Rather than give her answer, however, let me ask you, the reader:

Did Dupin’s last questions give you the solution? Would it help if I paraphrased a famous British sleuth who said that when faced with an insoluble puzzle, we should throw out all that is impossible; what remains must be possible? Do you know why the man in the bar said, “Thank you”?

It’s simple, dear reader. The one word Dupin uttered was

Mightier Than the Sword by John Maddox Roberts