"Lor' no, sir!" cried Jerry, amazed. "A weak little thing like that! 'Sides, the kid hadn't the knife. 'Twas on the table, I'm sure."
"Can you guess, then, who killed him?"
"No, sir, I can't. All I know is that I didn't. But now you know, just say if I'm to have the bill!"
"I'll tell you to-morrow morning."
"I must know to-night; the master wants me back to-night."
"He can't have you, then," said Heron, drily. "You stay here to-night, I want you to repeat your story to someone else."
"I won't then! I was a fool to tell; but I don't know nothing."
"You must stay here."
"I never killed him!" wept Jerry; then he turned sullen and made a grab at his hat. "I'll go," he said, and made for the door.
"Stephen," called Geoffrey; and Jerry found himself face to face with a big footman who seized him with iron hands.