Derrington grew wrathful. "Don't talk rubbish, sir. If I was, I should not mind admitting the fact. As it is----" He broke off, gnawing his lip and avoiding Brendon's eyes.
That the old man knew something vital to the case Brendon was certain; that he would never confess what it was George felt perfectly sure. He abandoned the point, as he did not wish to make Lord Derrington incriminate himself, and he might do so. Brendon was satisfied that he had seen him in the house on the night when Mrs. Jersey was murdered.
"There is no more to be said," he remarked, taking up his hat.
"No. Except that I'll give you a fair chance of finding the church. Bawdsey shall watch you no more."
"Thank you. And Mrs. Ward?"
"She shall be made to hold her tongue."
George bowed. "I am obliged to you, sir. I now see that you intend to fight fairly. Good-day," and he departed.
Derrington stood where he was, in deep thought. Suddenly he struck a mighty blow on the desk. "By Heaven, he's a man after my own heart!" said the old scamp. "He shall be my heir, he shall marry that girl; but to exercise his wits he shall fight every inch of the way to attain his ambition."