"You are pleased to say so, Lord Derrington."
"I generally do say what I please," responded the old man, shooting a sharp glance at George.
"Are you related to the Brendons of Shropshire?"
"No. I have not that privilege."
Derrington chuckled at this reply. He thought George had a good deal of the man in him when he answered thus fearlessly. "I have seen your name somewhere lately," he observed, "but I can't recall where or in what connection."
Brendon laughed, quite at his ease, although he did not know if this was an attempt to make him speak out. However, he did speak out, with the idea of seeing what would happen. "I can supply the connection," said he, lightly, but keenly observant of the old man's face. "My name appeared as a witness at an inquest a week or so back."
"Ah, now I remember, Mr. Brendon. Quite so. It was that Amelia Square murder."
"You have a good memory, Lord Derrington."
"In this case you flatter me, Mr. Brendon. There is no difficulty in my remembering the especial case, as Mrs. Jersey was a tenant of mine."
George was not supposed to know this and displayed suitable surprise.