"That is, of course, for you to judge, my lord." His meaning was unmistakable. Cyril flushed angrily. Was it possible that the man dared to doubt his word? Dared to disbelieve his positive assertion that he knew nothing whatsoever about the murder? The damnable—suddenly he remembered! Remembered the lies he had been so glibly telling all day. Why should any one believe him in future? His ignominy was probably already stamped on his face.
"I have nothing more to say," replied Cyril in a strangely meek voice.
"That being the case, I'd better be off," said Judson, rising slowly from his chair.
"Where are you going now?"
"I can't quite tell, my lord. It is my intention to vanish, so to speak."
"Vanish."
"Yes, my lord. I work best in the dark; but you will hear from me as soon as I have something definite to report."
"I hope you will be successful," said Cyril.
"Thank you; I've never failed so far in anything I have undertaken. I must, however, warn you, my lord, that investigations sometimes lead to conclusions which no one could have foreseen when they were started. I always make a point of reminding my employers of this possibility."
What the devil was the man driving at, thought Cyril; did he suspect him by any chance? That would be really too absurd! The man was an ass.