-the woman had snatched up that rapier and run him through. I
pulled out my handkerchief--the handkerchief I had taken from Mallett's
drawer--wiped my hand, and threw the handkerchief in the fire. Then I
took up a mass of papers and a memorandum book which Wallingford had
laid down--and went away by the passage. And that's the plain truth! I
should never have told it if I hadn't been arrested. I care nothing at
all that Wallingford was killed by this woman--not I! I shouldn't have
cared if she'd gone scot-free. But if it's going to be my neck or hers,
well, I prefer it to be hers. And there you are!"

"Once again," said the chairman, "who was this woman?"

Krevin Crood might have been answering the most casual of casual
questions.

"Who?" he replied. "Why--Mrs. Saumarez!"

CHAPTER XXV

THE EMPTY ROOM

Brent was out of his seat near the door, out of the court itself, out of
the Moot Hall, and in the market-place before he realized what he was
doing. It was a brilliant summer day, and just then the town clocks were
striking the noontide; he stood for a second staring about him as if
blinded and dazed by the strong sunlight. But it was not the sunlight at
all that confused him--though he stood there blinking under it--and
presently his brain cleared and he turned and ran swiftly down River
Gate, the narrow street that led to the low-lying outer edge of the
town. River Gate was always quiet; just then it was deserted. And as he
came to half-way down it, he saw at its foot a motor-car, drawn up by
the curb and evidently waiting for somebody. The somebody was Mrs.
Elstrick, who was hastening towards it. In another second she had sprung
in, and the car had sped away in the direction of the open country. And
Brent let it go, without another glance in its direction.

He turned at the foot of River Gate into Farthing Lane, the long,
winding, tree-bordered alley that ran beneath the edge of the town past
the outer fringe of houses, the alley wherein Hawthwaite had witnessed
the nocturnal meeting between Mrs. Elstrick and Krevin Crood. Brent
remembered that as he hastened along, running between the trees on one
side and the high walls of the gardens on the other. But he gave no
further thought to the recollection--his brain was not yet fully
recovered from the shock of Krevin Crood's last words, and it was
obsessed by a single idea: that of gaining the garden entrance of the
Abbey House and confronting the woman who