"Save Bernard," put in Conniston, lighting a cigarette.
"Certainly. However, we may learn something of the truth from——"
"Not Mrs. Gilroy," said Conniston quickly, "unless you have succeeded in finding her."
"No, I have not been so lucky. She has vanished altogether. But Beryl may be able to tell something."
"But he won't."
"I am not so sure of that. We have Jerry in our hands, and that young scamp is in the employment of Beryl. He will have to explain how the boy came to lure Bernard to Crimea Square in time to be accused."
"Why not ask Jerry?"
"Because Jerry would immediately run away. No, I'll wait. Perhaps Michael may speak out. He's ill enough."
"Michael?" echoed Conniston in amazement. "What of him?"
"Oh, the dickens!" said Durham in quite an unprofessional way, and stood up to warm himself at the fire in his favorite attitude. "I didn't intend to tell you that."