"I don't think the assassin will ever be discovered."
"That's luck for the assassin," rejoined the old lord, cynically. "You appear to be very certain, Mr. Brendon."
George shrugged his shoulders. "No more certain than the police are," he replied. "They examined every one in the house, and no one could be accused--there was absolutely no evidence. And the assassin could not have entered the house, as the door was locked, and the key was in the pocket of the murdered woman."
Derrington, for some reason, appeared to be rather relieved. "I read all that in the papers," he said roughly. "You are telling me nothing new. But there, you didn't say you would. By the way, you stopped at that house. Do you know a Miss Bull?"
George nodded. "She told my fortune," he said.
"She told Mrs. Jersey's fortune also, and a very true fortune did she tell," said Derrington, grimly. "What did she prophesy about you?"
"The usual thing," said Brendon, curtly.
"Trouble, I suppose. These card-people generally prophesy trouble, as it is certain to occur."
"There was trouble and enemies, and the promise that I should get my wish," said Brendon, with a quick look.
Derrington laughed. "What is your wish?"