"I think she flirted with him, but it was Jenny who really loved."
"And look at her reward!" said Ireland, with a deep sigh. "Those who try to do their best always come off worst. I loved your mother, George, and I have been a lonely man all my life."
It was a sad case. George wished to get at the truth, but he was so sorry for Ireland, who had passed so many miserable years, that he did not like to inflict more pain. Nevertheless, it was necessary to learn if Ireland had really visited Mrs. Jersey on that night, so as to set Bawdsey's mind at rest. If George did not learn the truth, Bawdsey might attempt the discovery, and he would handle the old man in a much worse manner than George was likely to do. While pondering how he could set about his unpleasant task, George was saved from making the first step, always the most difficult, by an observation from Ireland, which paved the way to an explanation.
"How did you discover the church?" he asked idly.
"In rather a queer way. Lola Velez----"
Ireland opened his eyes, which had been closed, and looked up. "Who is Lola Velez?" he asked anxiously.
"She is a dancer whom I helped--oh, quite in a proper way, Mr. Ireland. You know the name?"
Ireland, contrary to George's expectation, nodded. "There was a woman in San Remo about the time of your father's death. She was called Velez, and was in love with him."
"He seems to have been a fascinating man," said George, smiling, to set Ireland at his ease. "But this Lola is the daughter of the woman you mention. It was she who found the church."
By this time Ireland was quite awake, and keenly anxious for details. "How did she learn its name?" he demanded quickly.