“After dinner, things were a bit dull, so the three of us started to play poker to pass the time.”
“Three of you?” Armadale interrupted. “Who was the third man?”
“Oh, he's an Australian by the twang. Derek Fordingbridge, he calls himself. Staveley brought him down. There was something about his having an estate round about here, and wanting to take a look at it.”
“You hadn't met him before?”
“Me? Oh, only once or twice. I thought he was just another labourer in the vineyard, if you take me.”
“A competitor of yours in the commission agent business? What was he doing in that line if he had an estate?”
“Search me!” Billingford answered guardedly. “I'm not one for asking too many questions about people's affairs. ‘Do unto others as you'd be done by’ is my motto.”
Armadale evidently realised that he would get nothing by persisting on this line.
“You played poker, then. Anything further happen?”
Billingford seemed to be considering carefully before he ventured further. At last he made up his mind.