"I have shown them into the morning room, sir."
Mr. Drelincourt's eyebrows came together for a moment. "Better show them in here," he said. "Their coming is most opportune for my purpose," he continued aloud, as soon as he was alone. "It will spare me the necessity of a journey to Sunbridge." With that he put away the letter in the breast pocket of his coat, and stood up to receive his visitors. "Now to screw my courage to the sticking place! I could laugh, were this a time for laughter, at the thought of Ormsby aghast--dumfounded--his fat cheeks quivering like a jelly--when the truth is told him. And he was so sure Gumley was the man. Poor Ormsby! At last your thirst for vengeance shall be appeased."
[CHAPTER XII.]
ON THE BRINK.
"Sir John Musgrave and Mr. Ormsby," announced Wicks.
Drelincourt advanced smilingly and took the baronet's proffered hand.
"I think I can guess the nature of the business which has brought you, Sir John; but in any case you are welcome," he said. "Ormsby, how are you?"
Sir John cleared his throat. "As I judge, then, you have heard of the singular freak--for at present I can look upon it as nothing more--of your secretary, or whatever he is, Roden Marsh?"
"Who gave himself up last night at Sunbridge as being the murderer of my ever to be lamented sister." This from Mr. Ormsby.
"I have been from home all morning, and the first I heard of the affair was half an hour ago. I was on the point of driving into Sunbridge when you were announced. But pray be seated."