“Detected?” he asked quickly.
“Suspected, at any rate. I wrote you that Lord Deringham was watching me sharply. Where he got the idea from I can’t imagine, but he got it and he got it right, anyhow. He’s followed me about like a cat, and it’s all up.”
“What does he know?”
“Nothing! He found a sheet of carbon on my desk, no more! I had to leave in an hour.”
“And Lady Deringham?”
“She is like the rest—she thinks him mad. She has not the faintest idea that, mad or not, he has stumbled upon the truth. She was glad to have me go—for other reasons; but she has not the faintest doubt but that I have been unjustly dismissed.”
“And he? How much does he know?”
“Exactly what I told you—nothing! His idea was just a confused one that I thought the stuff valuable—how you can make any sense of such trash I don’t know—and that I was keeping a copy back for myself. He was worrying for an excuse to get rid of me, and he grabbed at it.”
“Why was Lady Deringham glad to have you go?” Mr. Sabin asked.