"No; it is the case itself which has mystified you," replied Crewe.
"It has," was Rolfe's candid confession. "The more thought I give it, the more impossible it seems to see through it. Was Sir Horace killed before dusk—before the lights were turned on? If he was killed after dark, who turned out the lights?"
"He was killed between 10 and 10.30 at night," said Crewe. "The lights were turned out by the woman Birchill saw leaving the house about 10.30. But she was not the murderer, and she was not present in the room, or even in the house, when Sir Horace was shot. She arrived a few minutes too late to prevent the tragedy. Turning out the lights was an instinctive act due to her desire to hide the crime, or rather to hide the murderer."
"How do you know all this?" asked Rolfe, who had been staring at Crewe with open-mouthed astonishment.
"That woman was not Mrs. Holymead," continued Crewe. "I had a visit to-day from the woman who did these things, and as evidence of the truth of her story she brought me the revolver and the handkerchief."
"What did she come to you for?" asked Rolfe, with breathless interest.
"What did she want?"
"She came to me to make a full confession," said Crewe, in even tones.
"A confession!" exclaimed Rolfe. "She ought to have come to the police.
Why didn't she come to us?"
Crewe smiled at the puzzled, indignant detective.
"I think she came to me because she wanted to mislead me," he said.