“I have forgotten to say that the sky was obscured by great clouds. It was a little difficult to see clearly. On the rock they discussed and discussed, but I could hear nothing; and in the end I grew tired of attending.” “How long did you stand there?” Armadale asked. “It would be difficult to say, but perhaps it was about a quarter-hour. I was quite tired of attending, and I walked—quite slowly—along the road away from the hotel. I avoided the automobile, you understand? I desired no embarrassments. It was not my affair—isn't it?—to discover the identity of this woman. All that I desired was an arm against Staveley. There was nothing else at all. “A little after, I returned; it seemed to me longer, perhaps, than it really was; and I was believing that they must be gone, those two. Then, all at once, I heard the report of a firearm down at the rock——” “A single shot?” Sir Clinton questioned. “_Un seul coup de feu?_” “One only,” Mme. Laurent-Desrousseaux answered definitely. “I hastened back along the road in the direction of the automobile. I had the idea of an accident in my head, you understand? It was very sombre; great clouds were passing on the moon. I could see with difficulty the woman's figure hasten up from the rock towards the automobile; and almost at once the chauffeur rejoined her. When they were getting into the automobile I was quite close; I could hear them speak, although it was too dark to see them except most dimly. The woman spoke first, very agitated.” Her three listeners were intent on her next words. Armadale looked up, his pencil poised to take down her report. Wendover felt a catch in his breath as he waited for the next sentences which would either make or break the inspector's case. “She said,” Mme. Laurent-Desrousseaux continued, “She said these very words, for they were stamped on my memory since they meant so much to me: ‘I've shot him, Stanley.’ And the chauffeur demanded: ‘Have you killed him?’ And you can understand, messieurs, that I listened with all my ears. The woman responded: ‘I think so. He fell at once and lay quite still. What's to be done?’ And to that the chauffeur made the reply: ‘Get you away at once.’ And he made some movement as if to put the motor in march. But the woman stopped him and demanded: ‘Aren't you going down to look at him—see if anything can be done?’ And to that the chauffeur made the response in anger: ‘It's damn well likely, isn't it?’ Just like that. And he pursued: ‘Not till I've seen you in safety, anyhow. I'm not running any risks.’ ” Wendover felt that his last shred of hope had been torn away. This reported conversation might have been concerted between Mme. Laurent-Desrousseaux and Armadale beforehand, so neatly did it fit into its place in the inspector's case. He glanced up at Sir Clinton's face, and saw there only the quiet satisfaction of a man who fits a fresh piece of a jig-saw puzzle into position.