"For the murder of his grandfather."
"The devil he has!"
"It's a nuisance; of course it must be looked into. I think perhaps I'd better put off interrogating Dorland and Penberthy. What are you doing with the girl, by the way?"
"I'll explain later. Look here—I'll take Miss Dorland back to Marjorie Phelps' place, and then come along and join you. The girl won't run away; I know that. And anyhow, you've got a man looking after her."
"Yes, I rather wish you would come with me; Fentiman is pretty queer, by all accounts. We've sent for his wife."
"Right. You buzz off, and I'll join you in—say in three quarters of an hour. What address? Oh, yes, righty-ho! Sorry you're missing your dinner."
"It's all in the day's work," growled Parker, and took his leave.
George Fentiman greeted them with a tired white smile.
"Hush!" he said. "I've told them all about it. He's asleep; don't wake him."