“Was Drelincourt there that night?” asked Captain Heron of | Sir Roland.
“Came in because it was raining,” explained Sir Roland. “Pel wanted to pull his nose. Daresay he will now.”
Captain Heron caught up with the Viscount. “Pelham, go easy!” he said. “If he hasn’t got it and you accuse him, you’ll only work a deal of harm. Why should he have taken the brooch?”
“To make mischief! Don’t I know him!” replied the Viscount. “ If he’s gone off with it to Rule already, we’re finished.”
“That’s so,” nodded Sir Roland. “Yes, that’s so, Pel. No getting away from it. Better finish Drelincourt too. Nothing else to do.”
“Pelham, you young madman, give me that pistol of yours!” commanded Captain Heron.
The Viscount shook him off, and strode on. Sir Roland plucked at the Captain’s sleeve. “Better let Pel deal with the fellow,” he said confidentially. “Devilish fine shot, you know.”
“Good God, you’re as mad as he is,” groaned Captain Heron. “We mustn’t let this come to a fight, man!”
Sir Roland pursed his lips. “I don’t see why not,” he said judicially. “Trifle irregular, but there’s two of us to see fair play. Do you know Drelincourt?”
“No, but—”