"Well," said Brendon, with a shrug, "I thought as much. Your accent fails at times. You are not a good actor, Bawdsey." "I may be a better actor than you think, Mr. Brendon." "What do you mean by that?" "Never you mind, sir. I can hold my tongue when it suits me, and on this occasion it does suit me. But remember, Mr. Brendon, that whatever happens you have a friend in me." "What is going to happen?" Bawdsey shook his head solemnly. "One never knows. We are not out of the wood yet, Mr. Brendon." "Are you referring to my father's murder?" "And to Mrs. Jersey's. I have my suspicions, and--well, there's nothing more to be said. When I am certain I shall let you know." "You have your suspicions, then?" "Yes. But I shall not impart them to any one--not even to you." "One moment, Bawdsey," said Brendon, as the man had his hand on the door. "Do you suspect Miss Bull?" "Why should I suspect her?" asked the detective, in surprise. "Because she was not on good terms with Mrs. Jersey, and you have taken up your abode in the house----" "To watch her, you would say. Well, maybe," rejoined the man, composedly. "I know what I know, and when I am more certain of what I know, sir----" He nodded. "Good-day," he said, and went abruptly. It struck George that Bawdsey was a most mysterious person and knew far more about the San Remo murder than Derrington could have told him. Still, it was possible that Derrington had unbosomed himself to Bawdsey, and it was necessary to do so if he wanted the murder of Mrs. Jersey cleared up. And Derrington, from his refusal to admit that he was at the house on the night and about the time the crime was committed, seemed to knew something that might lead to the detection of the assassin. "Humph," said George to himself when alone, "I have a great mind to go round and see that old man. It seems to me that Bawdsey is trying to serve two masters. It is impossible that my grandfather can know the truth. Yet, going by his height and figure, and that sable claret-colored coat, he was certainly in the house on the night in question. But it's none of my business." He sat down again to his work and tried to interest himself in the chapter he was writing. But it was all in vain. Bawdsey's speech and Bawdsey's manner, and a conviction that the man was playing his grandfather false, kept recurring to his mind. After an hour's futile work he threw down the pen in despair and went out to call on Derrington. On arriving at St. Giles Square he saw a carriage at the door of the mansion. On asking for Lord Derrington, George was informed that his lordship was engaged with Mrs. Ward and could see no one. Brendon turned away, wondering that he had not recognized the carriage, and he was still more vexed with himself when Dorothy put her head out of the brougham and called to him. "My dearest," he said softly, so that the coachman and footman might not hear, "this is an unexpected pleasure. Why are you not inside?"