"I am," he answered, flushing angrily.
"Then I shall not answer you. Who is this boy?"
"His name is Harry Revel?"
"What? The youngster the hue-and-cry's after?"
"Quite so: and in a pretty bad mess, since you've opened the cage to the real bird."
"Jack Rogers, you don't mean to tell me that he—that Mr. Whitmore—"
"Killed the Jew Rodriguez? Well, Lydia, I've no doubt of it in my own mind: but when you entered we were investigating another crime of his, and a dirtier one."
She swept us all in a gaze, and I suppose that our faces answered her.
"Very well," she said; "I will answer your questions. You may put them to me as a magistrate later on, but just now you shall listen to them as a friend and a gentleman." With her hunting-crop she pointed towards the door. "In the next room and alone, if you please. Thank you. You will excuse us, Rector?"
She bowed to the old man. Mr. Rogers stood aside to let her pass, then followed. The door closed behind them.