"I haven't met Sir Malcolm," said Carrington, wiping his eyeglass on his handkerchief. "I can't judge of him. What sort of a fellow is he?"
"A bit of a young squirt," said Ned candidly. "But I'll not believe he's a murderer till I get some proof of it."
"And Miss Farmond? Is she at all a murderous lady?"
He fixed his monocle in his eye just in time to see his host control himself after what seemed to have been a somewhat violent spasm.
"I'll stake my life on her innocence!" said Ned, and it was hard to know whether his manner as he said this should be termed fierce or solemn.
For the space of perhaps two seconds Carrington's eyeglass stared very straight at him, and immediately afterwards was taken out for cleaning again, while its owner seemed to have found some new food for thought. The silence was broken by Ned asking brusquely:
"Don't you believe me?"
Again his visitor fixed the monocle in his eye, and he answered now very quietly and deliberately:
"I happened to meet a young lady one afternoon, whom I discovered to be Miss Farmond. My own impression—for what it is worth—is that it would be a mere waste of time to investigate the suspicion against her, supposing, that is, that one were a detective or anything of that kind engaged in this case."
"You think she is innocent?" asked Ned eagerly.