"Well," said Durham, slowly, "your grandfather came to see me the other day on business--" "I can guess what the business was," put in Bernard, bitterly, and thinking that a new will had been made. The lawyer smiled. "Quite so. But don't ask me to betray the secrets of my client. But Sir Simon knew you were in the Imperial Yeomanry, Bernard. He learned that from Beryl." "Who is, no doubt, spying on me. It is thanks to Julius that I had the row with my grandfather. He--" "You needn't trouble to explain," interrupted Durham. "I know. Sir Simon explained. But he also asked me if you knew he was in town." "I told Bernard," said Conniston, "and you told me." "Yes. But does Bernard know where Sir Simon is stopping?" "No," said Gore, emphatically, "I don't." "Neither do I. What are you getting at, Mark?" "It's a queer thing," went on Durham, taking no notice of Conniston's question, "but afterwards--yesterday, in fact--Sir Simon wrote saying that he heard from Mrs. Gilroy of an Imperial Yeoman who had been visiting in the kitchen of Crimea Square--" "What about Crimea Square?" asked Gore, quickly. "Your grandfather is stopping there--in No. 32; old Jefferies' house." "Oh! I knew nothing of that. Go on." "Sir Simon," proceeded the lawyer, looking at Gore, "stated in his letter that the description of the soldier, as given by the maid, applied to you, Bernard." Gore stared and looked puzzled, as did Conniston. "But I don't quite understand," said the former. "Do you mean that my grandfather thinks that I have been making love to some servant in Crimea Square?" "In No. 32. Yes. That is what Sir Simon's letter intimated to me." The other men looked at one another and burst out laughing. "What jolly rubbish!" said Lord Conniston. "Why, Bernard is the last person to do such a thing." "It's all very well to laugh," said Durham, rather tartly, "but you see, Gore, Sir Simon may think that you went to the kitchen, not to make love to the maid, but to see how he was disposed towards you." "But, Mark, I haven't been near the place." "Are you sure?" asked Mark, sharply. Bernard, always hot-tempered, jumped up. "I won't bear that from any man," he said. "You have no right to doubt my word, Durham." "Don't fire up over nothing, Gore. It is in your own interest that I speak. I knew well enough that you wouldn't make love to this housemaid mentioned by Sir Simon--Jane Riordan is her name. But I fancied you might have gone to see if your grandfather--"