"Does she know that I am here? Did you tell her?"
"Not such a fool, Mr. Beauchamp. She'd have asked five thousand if she had known that. The woman has the blackmailing instinct."
"Like her brother," put in Alan. Then, observing the looks of surprise directed at him by the other two, he added: "Didn't you know? Cicero Gramp is Mrs. Warrender's brother. I found that out in London."
"A nice pair of jail-birds!" cried Blair. "I'd best get that confession at once, or she'll be giving it to Cicero, and they'll demand more money. Mr. Beauchamp, can you give me a check?"
"No," he said, shaking his head. "You forget, Blair, I am dead and buried, and, what's more, I do not intend ever to come to life again as Marlow. But Mr. Thorold, as Sophy's trustee, can give you the money."
"If Blair will come to the Abbey Farm, I will do so," said Alan, rising. "I agree that the sooner the confession is obtained the better, or Cicero may give trouble. By the way, who was it killed Achille, Blair? Was it the doctor himself?"
"No, no!" cried Beauchamp. "It was Scipio, the negro."
"I can't tell you that;" and the inspector shook his head. "Mrs. Warrender declares that you are innocent, Mr. Beauchamp; but she declines to give any further information until she has received her pound of flesh."
"She shall have it this very day," said Alan, putting on his cap. "Come, Blair. Mr. Beauchamp, will you remain here?"
"Yes. I am safer as the Quiet Gentleman than as anything else."