He gave a quick spring and there came a swift rustle, a metallic click! The revolver was on the floor and a band of steel was locked about each of the young man's wrists.
"You've put handcuffs on me," Sir Edgar cried out, angrily. "How dare you commit such an outrage! I'll have you arrested—I——"
"Better let that subject alone, young man. I suppose you don't realize that I overheard all that passed between Gunga Dall and Lady Brenton just now."
"Well, and you know that he lied," put in Sir Edgar, eagerly. "My mother wasn't there that night—you must know that."
"On the contrary, my friend, I know that she was," responded Cleek, serenely.
Sir Edgar made an effort to raise his shackled hands. His face was passionate.
"It's a lie, an infernal lie, I tell you!" he cried, vehemently. "It was I who killed the old woman, if you want to know the truth. Not Lady Brenton!"
"I do want to know the truth," replied Cleek, severely. "But that is not it, so don't tell any more lies than you are obliged to. If I say Lady Brenton was here that night, it does not mean that she killed Miss Cheyne, nor that you did, either, despite the fact that you had a revolver in your pocket."
A sudden, startled look passed over Sir Edgar's face. His mouth was a little drawn.