"I'm not a lawyer." George said at the end, looking up from his notes, "whether you'd get a divorce on that, assuming you wanted one ..." he added quickly, as O'Rane's eyes narrowed. "We haven't finished yet, though. You say Sonia admitted it?"
O'Rane nodded and then seemed to repent his nod.
"She didn't deny it," he said to correct himself. "I say, you fellows don't want me to go into this part of it, do you? It's not very pleasant for me. I'll just tell you that I assumed it was Beresford——"
"Why did you assume it?" I interrupted.
"She was very intimate with him. She used to talk—I thought it was in joke, of course, a silly joke that I didn't like—she used to talk about going off and living with him, if we ever had a disagreement about anything. Besides, I'd heard him hopping out of here and down the stairs on one leg. I naturally assumed.... And she accepted it. I—I can't tell you what we said to each other, but it was never in doubt, it never has been in doubt till this moment."
George pursed up his mouth and shook his head reflectively.
"This is only telling us what the sergeant said," he observed. "However, let's get every shred of evidence before we let Beresford open."
He looked enquiringly at his uncle, who shrugged his shoulders a little impatiently.
"It's not evidence," Bertrand began. "I'm old-fashioned, I daresay I attach too much importance to trifles; I can only give you what I've seen and heard."