"Well, I had to hold my tongue for you see I was in a most awkward position and I could prove nothing. I bluffed Mrs. Ward, but if the matter came into court things would look extremely unpleasant for me." "I can see that," said Brendon, "but Bawdsey----" "He has made himself secure, as no one can prove that he was in the house on that night. Even you thought it was I. I can't say for certain if Bawdsey committed the murder, or if he really did find the woman dead as he said, but he swears to his innocence. As yet he has not made any use of his power, but I am quite sure that he will try and get money out of me, so I have asked you here to advise me about the matter." "Do you think Bawdsey has the confession?" "He may have. If so, he knows where the marriage was celebrated!" Brendon mused for a time. "I think it best to do nothing at the present moment," he said. "Bawdsey is friendly to me, as I saved him from being run over. If he thought I knew this he might turn crusty and make trouble. Better wait." "For what?" asked Derrington, restlessly. "To see what he will do. If he does blackmail you, call me in." Derrington drew a long breath. "Yes. I think you are right," he said. "We will wait. But I don't trust that man." "He's a scoundrel," said George, "but I know how to conquer him." CHAPTER XVIII MISS BULL'S STORY Miss Bull was alone in the sitting-room of the late Mrs. Jersey. Margery had gone out shopping, and the old maid, left to her own resources, amused herself, as usual, with playing Patience. With the exception of a few old ladies in the drawing-room the house was empty, and Miss Bull found the quiet very soothing. After a time she grew weary of the game and seated herself in an armchair to meditate. Her thoughts were sad. Here she was, an old spinster dragging out a miserable old age in a London lodging-house, while her sister lived and fared sumptuously in accordance with her position. Miss Bull looked back on all the trials she had passed through, and wondered how she had been able to stand them. For a moment a revolt took place in her breast at the cruel fate she had endured, but the feeling died away, and she relapsed into the patient misery which was her usual frame of mind. "It can't last much longer," said Miss Bull, with a sigh. "I am getting old, and the end is coming. The sooner the better." As she gave vent to this dreary sentence there was a ring at the door. Miss Bull paid little attention to it, as she never had any visitors. But this day proved to be an exception, for George was admitted into the room. He advanced cordially toward Miss Bull. "I have come to see you again, you see," said Brendon.