"And then Mrs. Gilroy runs up, finds the dead, and rushes out to accuse me. I must have been brought in the nick of time," said Bernard, ironically. "No, Dick, there's more in it than that. Mrs. Gilroy is in the plot whomsoever contrived it."
"Why, Beryl contrived it. He wanted the money."
"Was he in the house at the time?"
"No. He didn't commit the crime himself, if that is what you mean. He with Miss Randolph was at the Curtain Theatre, which is near Crimea Square. He drove up in his friend's Mrs. Webber's carriage just when the row was on."
"Yes." Bernard passed his hand across his forehead. "I should have remembered that. I was in the hall at the time with the hand of the policeman on my shoulder. But I have grown so confused, Dick, that it's all like a dream."
"A nightmare rather. But why do you think Mrs. Gilroy is——"
"Is in the plot. Because, before she accused me, she said to herself, but loud enough for me to hear, 'It's the only way!'"
"Ha, ho!" said Conniston, excited, "you can swear to that."
"Of course I can. But I can't swear in the dock, and that is the only place I'm likely to occupy should I be caught."
"Is Mrs. Gilroy a friend of Beryl's?"