"Then you saw the murder."
"Wait a moment," said Mrs. Gilroy, rising in the excitement of her tale. "Beryl and the old man quarrelled. Then Sir Simon told him to go back to the theatre. Beryl, thinking he had offended Sir Simon past recall, wept. Yes," said Mrs. Gilroy, with a sneer, "he cried like a child. Sir Simon was disgusted. He snatched his handkerchief from him, and threw it on the floor. Beryl was ordered out of the house again. He left and went back to the theatre. The interview took only a few minutes."
"I committed it," said Mrs. Gilroy, simply.
Durham and the clerk both jumped and stared.
"You?" said the lawyer.
"Yes," said Mrs. Gilroy, coolly. "You have been on the wrong tack all along. You thought that Bernard killed Sir Simon—that my son did so—that Tolomeo did so—that Beryl was guilty. But you were all wrong. I, and none other, killed Sir Simon."
"You say this to save your son?"
"No. Tolomeo can prove that Sir Simon was alive when Michael fled from the house. Beryl can prove that I was alone with Sir Simon. I was late—the servants were in bed. I determined to kill the old man."
"Why, in Heaven's name?"