"What about him?"
"He poisoned his guards in the condemned cell. Logic, Inspector! He ran to the execution shed, opened the trap that would receive him, and jumped down. He reached the mortuary by way of the passage and the stairs. They shot him in the shoulder as he was climbing the spiked wall, and he fell back into a flower-bed. All this I saw too: in the mist."
With some effort Stannard got up. All his vitality had gone; his jaw sagged. He caught a brief flash of it when he addressed Ruth and the others.
"My dear," he said formally, and took Ruth's hand again as though she were made of china, "Lady Fleet has asked us to stay on tomorrow. I can rearrange my engagements to suit it, if you can?"
"Yes! I can arrange itl Of course!"
Thank you. And now, gentlemen," added Stannard, quite convinced they would believe every word he said, "this country air has a tendency to make me sleepy. Yes. It's past eleven, and I think m turn in. We have had — ah — a most interesting discussion. We must continue it soon. Yes. Good night."
And the shortish, stocky barrister, his dark hair gleaming, sauntered to the door while he firmly put down his bad ankle to keep from limping: facing the world with defiance, as though he carried a sword.
There was a long silence, even after they faintly heard his footsteps slacken and slow down on the stairs.
"I didn't think," Martin said slowly, "there were any knights-errant left in this world. But, by God and all honour to him! — there goes one of them!"
Ruth, who was standing and looking anxiously at the door, immediately showed her state of mind by attacking Martin.