He slid the cage to a smooth stop at the third floor. “Out to the left,” he said. “Department Twelve.”

Anita’s mind was beginning to work now. She smiled at the elevator attendant, walked rapidly to the left, pushed open a door, and entered the partially filled courtroom. She marched down the center aisle and calmly seated herself in the middle seat in a row of benches.

She was now wrapped in anonymity. Only her breathlessness and the pounding of her pulses gave indication that she was the quarry for which the crowd was now searching.

Then slowly the triumphant smile faded from her face. The realization of the effect of what she had done stabbed her consciousness. She had admitted her guilt. She could flee now to the farthest corners of the earth, but her guilt would always follow her.

Perry Mason had shown that she had not killed Carver Clements, but he had also shown that she had done something which in the minds of all men would be even worse. She had betrayed her friend. She had tried to ruin Fay Allison’s reputation. She had attempted the murder of her own roommate by giving her an overdose of sleeping tablets.

How much would Mason have been able to prove? She had no way of knowing. But there was no need for him to prove anything now. Her flight had given Mason all the proof he needed.

She must disappear, and that would not be easy. By evening her photograph would be emblazoned upon the pages of every newspaper in the city. . . .

Back in the courtroom, almost deserted now except for the county officials who were crowding around Shirley Tanner, Mason was asking questions in a low voice.

There was no more stamina left in Shirley Tanner than in a wet dishrag. She heard her own voice answering the persistent drone of Mason’s searching questions.

“You knew that Clements had this apartment in 702? . . . You deliberately made such a high offer that you were able to sublease Apartment 701? . . . You were suspicious of Clements and wanted to spy on him?”

“Yes,” Shirley said, and her voice was all but inaudible, although it was obvious that the court reporter, standing beside her, was taking down in his notebook all she said.

“You were furious when you realized that Carver Clements had another mistress and that all his talk to you about waiting until he could get his divorce was merely bait which you had grabbed?”

Again she said, “Yes.” There was no strength in her any more to think up lies.

“You made the mistake of loving him,” Mason said. “It wasn’t his money you were after, and you administered the poison. How did you do it, Shirley?”