"You saw my coat and a man with my tall figure, and having my association with yourself in your head you jumped to the conclusion that the figure was me."
"Then if not you, who was the man?"
"Bawdsey!" said Derrington, curtly.
George stared. "In your coat?" he said incredulously.
"It seems strange," said Derrington, "but the fact is that Bawdsey is one of the few who have got the better of me in my life. It was in this way that he prevented me from seeing Mrs. Jersey. On that night I visited him at his rooms, which then were in Bloomsbury. I desired to tell him that I intended to see Mrs. Jersey and to warn her against revealing anything. I don't suppose the warning was needed, as she knew when she was well off. But the fact is, Mrs. Jersey was not in good health and was feeling compunction about keeping you out of your rights. I learned from Bawdsey that Mrs. Jersey had written out a confession of the whole matter and that she intended to leave this to her niece, Margery Watson, so that I might be forced to continue the lease of the house."
George uttered an ejaculation. "I thought from what Margery said that there was some such confession," he remarked, "but it is missing; it was not found among her papers after her death. Unless Miss Bull took it and forced you to----"
"No," interrupted Derrington, vigorously, "she came here quietly and put the case of the poor girl to me. She also undertook that the rent would be paid regularly, and that through Miss Watson she would manage the house. I was quite satisfied with the existing arrangements, and, moreover, thought that, if such a confession were found, out of gratitude Miss Watson might bring it to me."
"If Miss Bull had told her to she would have done so but not otherwise," said George; "she is under Miss Bull's thumb."
"The best place she could be, George. The girl is a born idiot from what I saw of her. However, you know why I renewed the year-by-year lease. Where the confession is I have no idea; but the person who holds it will certainly make use of it some day to extort money, and then we will learn who killed Mrs. Jersey."
"I dare say. The assassin must have taken the papers. Well?"