"I was sound asleep the whole time," said Brendon, calmly. "Humph!" Derrington pulled at his gray mustache in the very same way as George did when he was reflective. "What a pity. You might have discovered the assassin." "I don't think the assassin will ever be discovered." "That's luck for the assassin," rejoined the old lord, cynically. "You appear to be very certain, Mr. Brendon." George shrugged his shoulders. "No more certain than the police are," he replied. "They examined every one in the house, and no one could be accused--there was absolutely no evidence. And the assassin could not have entered the house, as the door was locked, and the key was in the pocket of the murdered woman." Derrington, for some reason, appeared to be rather relieved. "I read all that in the papers," he said roughly. "You are telling me nothing new. But there, you didn't say you would. By the way, you stopped at that house. Do you know a Miss Bull?" George nodded. "She told my fortune," he said. "She told Mrs. Jersey's fortune also, and a very true fortune did she tell," said Derrington, grimly. "What did she prophesy about you?" "The usual thing," said Brendon, curtly. "Trouble, I suppose. These card-people generally prophesy trouble, as it is certain to occur." "There was trouble and enemies, and the promise that I should get my wish," said Brendon, with a quick look. Derrington laughed. "What is your wish?" "If I tell it I won't get it," replied George, also laughing; "but I don't believe in fortune-telling. It is rubbish." "It wasn't in Mrs. Jersey's case," said the other, who appeared to be a trifle superstitious. "Oh, that was a mere coincidence. But you asked me about Miss Bull, sir! Do you know her?" Derrington nodded. "She came to me on behalf of Mrs. Jersey's niece and wished the lease renewed. I heard her story and consented. I dare say the niece will be quite as good a tenant as the aunt." This conversation was all very well, but there was nothing to be learned from it on either side. Brendon could not discover if his grandfather knew to whom he was speaking, and Derrington found it impossible to learn if George could tell him anything of the case which had not been reported in the papers. For some reason Derrington wished to know what had transpired, and Brendon felt convinced that this anxiety was more than that of a landlord for the loss of a good tenant. He wondered if Derrington knew that Mrs. Jersey had written out a confession and that it was missing. He would had liked to find out, but since he could not reveal himself as Derrington's grandson there was no chance of getting this information. Besides, Derrington appeared to grow weary of discussing the murder. "It is worn threadbare," he said. "All the papers have been talking about it. I agree with you, Mr. Brendon, that the assassin will never be discovered." "Never!" said George, looking full at the determined face of the old man. "Are you quite sure?