"It turned out quite well, too, because they were all quite ready to believe that I wanted to escape from Mrs. Pettigrew-Robinson—except Mrs. P. herself, of course."
"Yes; even Parker swallowed that, didn't you, old man?"
"Oh, quite, quite so," said Parker gloomily.
"I made a dreadful mistake about that shot," resumed Lady Mary. "You see, I explained it all so elaborately—and then I found that nobody had heard a shot at all. And afterwards they discovered that it had all happened in the shrubbery—and the time wasn't right, either. Then at the inquest I had to stick to my story—and it got to look worse and worse—and then they put the blame on Gerald. In my wildest moments I'd never thought of that. Of course, I see now how my wretched evidence helped."
"Hence the ipecacuanha," said Peter.
"I'd got into such a frightful tangle," said poor Lady Mary, "I thought I had better shut up altogether for fear of making things still worse."
"And did you still think Goyles had done it?"
"I—I didn't know what to think," said the girl. "I don't know. Peter, who else could have done it?"
"Honestly, old thing," said his lordship, "if he didn't do it, I don't know who did."
"He ran away, you see," said Lady Mary.