"And what are you doing down here?" said Blake, throwing himself into a chair. "I did not know you knew Mrs. Grent."
"Nor do I," replied Darrel flushing a little. "I came down here with a detective."
Lydia started, and with a little shudder raised her hands in dismay. "Not about that dreadful murder?"
"Yes, Miss Hargone about that dreadful murder. I am assisting the detective in charge of the case to investigate it."
"Are you, now?" cried Blake, whose brogue became marked when he grew excited. "Sure, it's not thief-catching you've taken up?"
"Oh, no; I am merely investigating the case in an amateur way."
"Have you discovered anything, Mr. Darrel," asked Lydia softly.
Frank shrugged his shoulders. "A few things," he said, "but nothing likely to lead to the detection of the assassin."
"But there are two of them, they say," remarked Blake. "It's in the papers. One man killed poor old Grent; the other murdered that wretched woman."
"Well," said Darrel deliberately, "for my part I believe that both crimes were committed by the same man."