Second

    "And so, what do you conclude? Now that the evidence is before us, what is your opinion of the matter?"
    "I have to confess I cannot make head nor tail of it. It appears to be a crime without the slightest motive, with not a single intelligible clue to point towards the perpetrator, but only a series of bizarre and inconsequential red herrings to obscure our progress."
    "But take those red herrings, as you so eloquently describe them, one by one: is there no thread, however slight, that connects them, and thus may lead us to the correct solution?"
    "I am afraid to say I am totally at a loss. The evidence you have accumulated is meaningless to me – completely random, as far as I can tell."
    "Really? Is anything ever truly random? What do we have? A rolled-up black umbrella, flecked with blood, and with a handle bearing the teeth marks of a small unidentifiable rodent not indigenous to these shores. A copy of the Times, dated exactly twenty-five years ago today, in pristine condition apart from the word "perambulator" written in green ink in the right hand margin of the first page. Two first class railway tickets to Margate. An Amazonian blowdart tipped with curare. A quarter of a pound of sugared almonds. I hardly think that this constitutes a random collection of items."