Vera, her wits revived by the brandy, made a diversion by saying:

"Where's the judge?"

The three men looked at each other.

"That's odd... Thought he came up with us."

Blore said:

"So did I... What about it, doctor? You came up the stairs behind me."

Armstrong said:

"I thought he was following me... Of course, he'd be bound to go slower than we did. He's an old man."

They looked at each other again.

Lombard said:

"It's damned odd..."

Blore cried:

"We must look for him."

He started for the door. The others followed him, Vera last.

As they went down the stairs Armstrong said over his shoulder:

"Of course he may have stayed in the living-room..."

They crossed the hall. Armstrong called out loudly:

"Wargrave, Wargrave, where are you?"

There was no answer. A deadly silence filled the house apart from the gentle patter of the rain.

Then, in the entrance to the drawing-room door, Armstrong stopped dead. The others crowded up and looked over his shoulder.

Somebody cried out.

Mr. Justice Wargrave was silting in his high-backed chair at the end of the room. Two candles burnt on either side of him. But what shocked and startled the onlookers was the fact that he sat there robed in scarlet with a judge's wig upon his head...

Dr. Armstrong motioned to the others to keep back. He himself walked across to the silent staring figure, reeling a little as he walked like a drunken man.

He bent forward, peering into the still face. Then, with a swift movement, he raised the wig. It fell to the floor, revealing the high bald forehead with, in the very middle, a round stained mark from which something had trickled...

Dr. Armstrong raised the limp hand and felt for the pulse. Then he turned to the others.

He said - and his voice was expressionless, dead, far away:

"He's been shot... "

Blore said:

"God - the revolver!"

The doctor said, still in the same lifeless voice:

"Got him through the head. Instantaneous."

Vera stooped to the wig. She said, and her voice shook with terror:

"Miss Brent's missing grey wool..."

Blore said:

"And the scarlet curtain that was missing from the bathroom..."

Vera whispered:

"So this is what they wanted them for..."

Suddenly Philip Lombard laughed - a high unnatural laugh.

"'Five little Indian boys going in for law; one got in Chancery and then there were four.' That's the end of Mr. Bloody Justice Wargrave. No more pronouncing sentence for him! No more putting on of the black cap! Here's the last time he'll ever sit in court! No more summing up and sending innocent men to death. How Edward Seton would laugh if he were here! God, how he'd laugh!"

His outburst shocked and startled the others.

Vera cried:

"Only this morning you said he was the one!"

Philip Lombard's face changed - sobered.

He said in a low voice:

"I know I did... Well, I was wrong. Here's one more of us who's been proved innocent - too late!"

Chapter 14

They had carried Mr. Justice Wargrave up to his room and laid him on the bed.

Then they had come down again and had stood in the hall looking at each other.

Blore said heavily:

"What do we do now?"

Lombard said briskly:

"Have something to eat. We've got to eat, you know."

Once again they went into the kitchen. Again they opened a tin of tongue. They ate mechanically, almost without tasting.