"It is your best course." "Oh, I'm not on my trial, Mr. Brendon. It is only my friendship for you that is making me speak out." "I accept that excuse. Go on." Bawdsey shrugged his shoulders to show his annoyance at the uncompromising attitude of his visitor. "I feared lest Mrs. Jersey should order me out of the house unless I could gain time by being mistaken for Lord Derrington. I drugged the old gentleman, and then, taking his coat and the latch-key, I went to see Mrs. Jersey." "At what time were you there?" "Some time before twelve. I cannot say for certain. Well, Mr. Brendon, I let myself in with the latch-key, and I found the house by the red light over the door. In former years it had been my custom to guide myself in that way. I told Lola so." "Why did you tell her that?" "Oh, she knew that you were going late to the house and made a fuss about the chance of your being lost in the fog. I said that probably Train would tell you of the red light, and that you could guide yourself by that." "Humph. Lola was always unnecessarily kind," said George. "Well?" "Well, I closed the door softly and went into the sitting-room." "You knew where that was?" "Of course. Don't I tell you I once lived in this house? I entered the sitting-room. The lamp was burning, and Mrs. Jersey was seated at the table." Bawdsey shuddered. "There is no need to tell you more. I left the room at once, for the sight horrified me." "Why did you pause in the hall?" "I thought I heard a footstep on the stairs, and the shock gave me one of my fits--the fear of open spaces, you know. How did you come to learn that I paused in the hall?" "Because I had come down the stairs to see who was with Mrs. Jersey." "Ah! Then it must have been your footstep I heard," said the detective. "Well, I soon recovered, and left the house." "What about the stiletto?" "It was lying on the floor near the table. I saw it glittering in the lamplight. As there was blood on it and I saw the wound, I knew that Mrs. Jersey had been killed by it. I slipped it into my pocket with a vague idea that thereby I might trace the assassin." "Did you leave it purposely in the coat?" "No," said Bawdsey, frankly. "I did not. I was so moved and--as a woman would say--flustered by the death, that I forgot all about it. Lord Derrington woke up and went home. I said nothing about the murder to him at the time. I had not the nerve. It was only after he departed that I remembered the stiletto. I thought he might make a row and accuse me of the crime. But he said nothing, and I judged it wise to let sleeping dogs lie. So that is all I can tell you, Mr. Brendon, and you will see that I am not such a bad man as you try to make out." "Oh, you have spoken clearly enough," said George. Then after a pause, "Yes, I think you are honest, so far as I can judge. I trust you." Bawdsey looked delighted. "Will you have a glass of wine with me to show that?" he asked rising.