She puckered her brows together as if in perplexity and tapped one slim, perfectly-manicured finger against her white teeth.
"Yes," she said at last; "yes, it was every bit of it true—every bit, Mr. Headland. For the moment, in that room of terror, I had forgotten poor Franco's death. But now—yes, I can remember it all fully. My uncle spoke the truth, Mr. Headland—I can promise you that."
Cleek sighed. Then:
"But it was your revolver he used, Miss Brellier? Try to remember. He said that he told you of it at the time. Can you recollect your uncle telling you that he used your revolver to shoot the dog with, or not? That is what I want to know."
She shrugged her shoulders and spread out her hands.
"It is so difficile. I am trying to remember, and the matter seemed then so trivial! But there is no reason to doubt my uncle, Mr. Headland, for he loves Nigel dearly, and if there was any way in which he could help to unravel this so terrible plot against him—Oh! I am sure he must have told me so, sure! There would be no point in his telling an untruth over that."
"And yet you can not recall the actual remark that your uncle made, Miss Brellier?"
"No. But I am sure, sure that what he said was true."
Cleek shrugged his shoulders.
"Then, of course, you must know best. Well, we must try and find some other loophole. I promised Merriton I'd speak a few words to you, Miss Brellier, just to tell you to keep up heart—though it's a difficult task. But everything that can be done, will be done. And—if you should happen to hear that I have thrown up the case, and gone back to London, don't be a bit surprised. There are other ways, other means of helping than the average person dreams of. Don't mention anything I have said to you to anybody. Keep you own counsel, please, and as a token of my regard for that I will give you my word that everything that can be done for Merriton will be. Good-bye."