“As to what happened, I have yet to learn,” said Derrick Yale to a silent but attentive Inspector Parr. “I arrived at Onslow Gardens just after Willings had taken the girl away. The servants at the house were rather reluctant about giving me information, but I soon discovered that she had been taken to Willings’s house in the country. Whether she enticed him or he lured her is a matter for discovery. Probably he is under the impression that she went against her will. All along I have suspected Thalia Drummond as being something more than a servant of the Crimson Circle; naturally I was a little alarmed and flew off to Thetfield, arriving at the house just after she had left. She escaped in Willings’s car, smashing the lodge gates _en route_; by the way--that girl has got nerve.” “How is Willings?” “He will recover; the wound is superficial, but what is significant is the proof that the crime was premeditated. Willings only missed the dagger with which he was stabbed this afternoon, after he had left the girl alone in his armoury whilst he put on his overcoat. He thinks she must have carried it in her muff, and that, of course, is very likely. He gives me no very clear account of what were the events which immediately preceded the stabbing.” “H’m,” said Inspector Parr. “What sort of a room was it? I mean, the room where this nearly--occurred?” “A pretty little drawing-room communicating with what Willings calls his Turkish room. It is a marvellous replica of an Eastern interior, and I should imagine the scene of more or less disreputable happenings--Willings hasn’t the best of reputations. It is only separated from the drawing-room by a curtain, and it was near the curtain that he was found.” Mr. Parr was so absorbed in his meditation that his companion thought he had gone to sleep. But the inspector was not asleep; he was very wide awake. He was conscious of the appalling fact that once more whatever kudos attached to the latest of the Crimson Circle’s outrages went to his companion, and yet he did not grudge him the honour. Without warning he delivered himself of a sentiment which seemed to have no bearing whatever upon the matter they were discussing. “All great criminals come to grief through trifling errors of judgment,” he said oracularly. Yale smiled. “The error of judgment in this case, I presume, being that they didn’t kill our friend Willings--he is not a nice man, and I should imagine of all the members of the Cabinet he could best be spared. But I for one am very grateful that these devils did not get him.” “I am not referring to Mr. Willings,” said Inspector Parr rising slowly. “I am referring to a stupid little lie told me by a man who really should have known better.” And with this cryptic utterance, Mr. Parr went off to break the news to Jack Beardmore.