The hangman always received his puff. When she had been staying with Beryl, she had met Sir John Maxton; he had returned on the morning of the execution and had come straight to the house. He had said nothing that gave her any impression except that Ambrose had died bravely. Would he have heard anything later? She made up her mind, dressed and went out. There was a telephone a block away and she got through to Sir John's chambers in the Temple. To her relief he answered the telephone himself. "Is that you, Sir John? It is Christina Colebrook--yes--I'm very well. Can I see you, Sir John? Any time, now if you wish. I could be with you in twenty minutes--oh, thank you--thank you so much." A bus dropped her in Fleet Street and she walked through the Temple grounds to the ugly and dreary buildings where he rented chambers. They were on the ground floor, happily; Christina was still a semi-invalid. "You've come to ask me about Sault!" he said as soon as she was announced. "Why do you think that?" she smiled. "I guessed. I suppose Ronnie has told everybody about the ghastly business. It seems impossible, impossible that he could have shown the white feather as he did," said Sir John. "I can hardly believe it is true, and yet when I got into touch with the deputy governor, he told me very much the same story--that one moment Sault was calm and literally smiling at death; the very next instant he was--pitiful, blubbering like a child. I hate telling you this, because I know you were such dear friends, but--you want to know?" She inclined her head. "Nothing else happened?" "Nothing--oh, yes, there was one curious circumstance. In the midst of his amazing outburst Sault cried: 'Ronald Morelle of Balliol!' Did he know that Ronnie was at Balliol? I can only imagine that by this time he hadn't any idea at all what he was talking about." She rose. "Thank you, Sir John," she said quietly, "you have saved my reason." "In what way?" His curiosity was piqued. "There was something I had to believe--or go mad. That is cryptic, isn't it? But I can't be plain, for fear you think I've lost my reason already!" Sir John was too polite to press her, too much of a lawyer to reveal his curiosity. He went on to talk of Sault. "He was certainly the best man I have met in my life. By 'best' I particularly refer to his moral character, his ideals, his sense of divinity. His courage humbled me, his philosophy left me feeling like a child of six. I must believe what I am told, so I accept the story about his having made a scene on the scaffold, without question. But there is an explanation for it, that I'll swear, and an explanation creditable to Ambrose Sault." Christina went home with a light heart, convinced. She had begun a letter to Beryl and was debating half-way through whether she would as much as hint her peculiar theory, when Evie burst into the room cyclonically, her eyes blazing.