"Oh, Lola was let off with a small fine. She is now back dancing at her music-hall. She gave the confession to me."
"Did any one else see it--the authorities?"
"No. You can set your mind at rest, Mr. Ireland. I got it from Lola before she was taken to prison. No one had seen it but myself and Lord Derrington."
Ireland drew a long breath of relief. "You made a strange remark just now, George," he said, not looking at the young man. "You told me to set my mind at rest. Why did you say that?"
"I have read the confession," said George, quietly.
Mr. Ireland rose from his chair and began to pace the room. He seemed so weak that George wished him to return, but the old man waved his hand impatiently. "It's all right--it's all right," he said, then stopped opposite to George. "Then you know?"
"I know that my father's death was due to an accident."
"What! Did that wretched woman tell the truth?"
"She told the truth."
"And she did not accuse me of having murdered your father?"