So back we went to turn the tables upon St. George, Tod in a rapture of gratification. You might have thought he was treading upon eggs.
We had it out this time in Mr. Delorane’s private office; the Squire walked straight into it. Not but that “having it out” must be regarded as a figure of speech, for elucidation seemed farther off than before, and the complications greater.
Mr. Delorane and his head-clerk were both bending over the same parchment when we entered. Ellin kissed her father, and turned to St. George.
“Why have you been saying that you did not drive home William Brook?” she asked as they shook hands.
“A moment, my dear; let me speak,” interrupted the Squire, who never believed any one’s explanation could be so lucid as his own. “Delorane, I left you just now with an apology for having brought to you a cock-and-bull story through the misleading fancies of these boys; but we have come back again to tell you the story’s true. Your daughter here says that it was William Brook that St. George had in his gig. And perhaps Mr. St. George”—giving that gentleman a sharp nod—“will explain what he meant by denying it?”
“I denied it because it was not he,” said Mr. St. George, not appearing to be in the least put out. “How can I tell you it was Brook when it was not Brook? If it had been——”
“You met William Brook at the Worcester railway-station yesterday afternoon,” interrupted Ellin. “Mrs. James Ashton saw you there; saw the meeting. You were at the station, were you not?”
“I was at the station,” readily replied St. George, “and Mrs. James Ashton may have seen me there, for all I know—I did not see her. But she certainly did not see William Brook. Or, if she did, I didn’t.”
“Gregory West saw you and him in your gig together later, when you were leaving Worcester,” continued Ellin. “It was at the top of Red Hill.”
St. George shook his head. “The person I had in my gig was a stranger. Had Gregory West come up one minute earlier he would have seen me take the man into it.”