Carroll did not answer. There was no answer possible. Leverage's logic was irrefutable. And finally Carroll rose to his feet and slipped into his heavy overcoat. Leverage's eyes were turned kindly upon him.

"Where are you going, David!"

"I'm going to play my last trump. If it doesn't uncover something--I throw up my hands. Laugh at me if you will, Eric--rail at me for being chicken-hearted, for playing hunches too strongly--but I have an idea that Mrs. Lawrence did not kill Warren. Don't ask me how or why? I don't know--I admit that frankly. But I've always banked on my knowledge of human nature, Leverage--and my instinct has never yet betrayed me. Just now it is forcing me to give this woman every chance in the world to clear herself. I am hoping that circ.u.mstances will allow me to bring this case to a conclusion without making public her connection with it--the elopement she was planning."

"You do believe that part of the story, then: that she was going to elope with Warren?"

"I do. I don't want to--but I'm honest with myself."

"Then," exclaimed Leverage with a slight touch of exasperation in his manner--"who in thunder could have killed Warren if she didn't?

And when?"

"That," said Carroll simply, "is what I hope to find out."

"From where?"

"From the lips of Mrs. Lawrence. I'm going to have a talk with her."

Carroll was far from happy during his drive to the Lawrence home. The Warren mystery seemed to be verging on a solution, but in Carroll's breast there was none of the pardonable surge of elation which normally was his under these circ.u.mstances. It had been a peculiar case from the first. The _dramatis personae_ had all been of the better type, with the single exception of William Barker--they had been persons against whom the detective was loath to believe ill. And, most eagerly, he had shied from the belief that Mrs. Lawrence was connected in a sinister way with the death of Roland Warren.

Yet he found himself en-route to her home, facing the ordeal of an interview with her--an ordeal for her as well as for him--and one through which he feared she could not safely come. For, frankly as Carroll had admitted to his friend that he hoped to find Naomi innocent--he was yet honest and fearless, and failure of the woman to clear herself meant her arrest. Carroll was determined upon that--yet he dreaded it as a child dreads the dentist--as something painful beyond belief.

He rang the bell--then groaned as Evelyn Rogers greeted him effusively.

She ushered him ostentatiously into the parlor and drew up a chair close to his--

"Mr. Carroll--it's just simply _scrumptuous_ of you to call on me informally like this. I can't tell you how tickled I am. I was sitting upstairs, simply bored to extinction. Sis has been a terrible drag on me recently--really you'd have thought there had been a death in the family. Or something! It's been simply graveyardy! And now you come in--like a darling angel--and save me from the w.i.l.l.ywoggles. You're a _dear_, and--"

"But--but--I really came to see your sister."

"Oh! _pff_! That's what poor dear Roland used to say all the time. But I always knew I was the one he wanted to see. Goodness, he was simply _crazy_ about me--but of course Sis never understood that. She hasn't yet realized that I'm grown up."

"Peculiar how blind some folks are. But this time, Miss Rogers--I really do want to chat with your sister. Not that I wouldn't prefer a talk with you. So if you'll tell her I'm here--and would like to see her _privately_--"

Evelyn rose and started reluctantly toward the door. "I suppose it's up to me to make myself very scarce. But it is simply _precious_ of you to admit you'd rather talk to me. Poor Roland used to say that--but he always said it as though he was kidding. I believe _you_!"

"I a.s.sure you I'm serious."

"I know it. And anyway, I was thinking of running out for a minute--and I suppose this is a good chance. Of course, I'd stay and see you if you wanted--but I suppose you've got something terribly dry to discuss and so--"

She left the room and Carroll heaved a sigh of infinite relief. A few minutes later the hall door swung back and Naomi and Evelyn entered. He was immensely relieved to see that the youngster was cloaked for the street and murmured a few idle words to her before she went. And until the front door banged behind her he remained standing before the fireplace, his eyes focused on the tragic figure of Naomi.

She faced him bravely enough, but in her eyes he read the message of knowledge. There was no need for words between them. She knew why he had come--and he knew that she knew.

"Sit down, please, Mr. Carroll."

He waited until she had seated herself and then followed suit. He controlled his voice with an effort--his words came softly, rea.s.suringly.

"I'm sorry I've come this way, Mrs. Lawrence. I've come--"

"I know why you have come, Mr. Carroll. You need not mince matters."

He drew a long breath. "Isn't it true, Mrs. Lawrence, that _you_ were the woman in the taxi-cab the night Mr. Warren was killed?"

She inclined her head. "Yes."

Carroll fidgeted nervously. "I must warn you to be careful in what you say to me, my friend. I am the detective in charge of this case, and--"

"There is no use in concealment, Mr. Carroll. I have been driven almost crazy since that night. I have almost reached the end of my rope. It was the scandal I have been fighting to avoid--not so much for my own sake as for Evelyn and my husband. Publicity--of this kind--would be very--very--awkward--for both of them."

"I'm sorry--" Carroll hesitated. "If you don't care to talk to me--"

She shrugged slightly. "It makes no difference--now. I'd rather talk to you than someone who might understand less readily--or more harshly."

"I may question you?"

"Yes."

"I regret it--and rest a.s.sured that I am trying to find--a way out--for you."

"There is no way out--from the scandal. But that is my own fault--"

Somewhere down the block an auto horn shrieked: in another room of the house an old grandfather's clock chimed sonorously.

"You admit that you were the woman in the taxicab?"

"Yes. Certainly."

"Do you admit that you killed Roland Warren?"

Her startled eyes flashed to his. The color drained from her cheeks. Her answer was almost inaudible--

"No!"

"You did not kill him?" Carroll was impressed with the nuance of truth in her answer.

"No--I did not kill him."

"But when you got into the taxicab--isn't it a fact that he was already there?"

"Yes--he was there, Mr. Carroll. _But he was already dead_!"

CHAPTER XX

A CONFESSION