"That is what puzzles Train and Mrs. Ward and Lord Derrington," was Bawdsey's reply. "They asked me what I thought. Well----" "One moment," interrupted Brendon. "Why does Train believe that I was in Mrs. Jersey's room?" "He found beside the table a yellow holly berry, and you wore----" George started. "I did--I did," he muttered; "it must have been brushed off the sprig when I stooped to touch her." "Ah!" said Bawdsey, in a voice of triumph, "then you admit you were in the room?" "Yes, to you, but to no one else." "I'm glad you trust me so far," said Bawdsey, genuinely pleased; "your confidence is not misplaced, Mr. Brendon. And you saw Mrs. Jersey?" "I saw her body. She was dead." "At what time was that?" "About twelve o'clock." "Why did you not give the alarm?" "What?" George smiled derisively. "You think I should have put the rope round my neck?" "No. But--well, no matter. We can talk of that later. But as to getting out of this room When the door was locked?" "I didn't get out of this room, Mr. Bawdsey. I----" "Wait a bit. Come into the room you slept in," said the detective, leading the way. "I have made a discovery." The bedroom was in the same condition as when Brendon had last seen it, with the exception that the wardrobe was moved to one side. The wall at the back, which divided the room from the passage, appeared a blank, but on touching a spring a masked door opened. Shelves were revealed and it was evident that this door formed the back of a cupboard that was in the passage--a cupboard used by the housemaid, as was apparent from the dust-shovel and brooms lying within it. For a moment Bawdsey left the door open and looked at Brendon with quiet triumph. Then he snapped the door to and the wall appeared in its former blank condition. No one, without making a close examination, would have suspected the presence of that secret door. "A housemaid might open the cupboard door in the passage at any time," explained Mr. Bawdsey, accounting for his action, "and it would never do for her to look through the back of the shelves into this room. She might talk, Mr. Brendon, and then there would be trouble. Yes," Bawdsey rubbed his nose and looked at the astonished George, "I am sure there would be great trouble." "I congratulate you on your cleverness, Mr. Bawdsey," said Brendon when he had somewhat recovered. "You have discovered my secret. I should like to know how you discovered it." "Well," said Bawdsey, pushing the wardrobe back to its place with an effort, "you see when I learned through the advertisement that George Brendon was the grandson of Lord Derrington I told him of it. He related your history." "Including the murder of my father?" "Yes, including that," replied Bawdsey with a queer expression; "but that has nothing to do with the matter in hand, Mr. Brendon." "I'm not so sure," retorted George. "I should not be at all surprised to find that Mrs. Jersey was murdered to keep her quiet on that point."