Ireland nodded. "Thank God again," he said solemnly. "Your father and I were not very good friends, as I found it difficult to forgive him for having taken from me the woman I loved. But at San Remo we got on better together. I stifled my resentment so that I might see as much of you as possible, George. Knowing that I was not on good terms with Vane, I thought that Mrs. Jersey might have accused me of the crime. She did try to get money out of me." "So Bawdsey told me." "Bawdsey. Who is he?" "I forget you don't know. He is a private-inquiry agent who has been looking after the case on behalf of Lord Derrington. I learn from the confession of Mrs. Jersey that he is her husband." "George Rates. I remember. She told me she married him and went to America. It was after her return from America that she tried to get money out of me. I refused; not that I did not realize the danger to which she could expose me, but I knew that if I once yielded I would be in her power. Besides, I had a defense, as she got the stiletto from the woman Velez." "And it was with that same stiletto that Mrs. Jersey was killed." "By whom?" asked Ireland. "Did her husband----" "No. We do not know who killed her. Perhaps you may know?" "I!" Ireland looked genuinely surprised. "No; how should I know?" "Well," said George, rather awkwardly, "it seems that Bawdsey has got it into his head that you knew about this confession." "I did not!" "That you were afraid it would be published after her death, and that you went to the house on that night to get it." "I did not. How could I have entered the house?" "Bawdsey thinks you had a latch-key." "No. All the keys were handed to Lord Derrington's agent when the house was sold. In plain in words, George, this man Bawdsey--Rates--whatever he calls himself; accuses me of the murder." "He doesn't exactly accuse you, but----" "I don't know what else you would call his statements but accusations," retorted Ireland with some heat, "but I never was near the house. I certainly thought that Mrs. Jersey might leave some such confession, but I never asked her about it. I never thought that such a healthy woman would die before me, and I knew that sooner or later my bad heart would carry me off in spite of the regularity of my life." "Then you cannot guess who killed her?" "No. I was never near the house. I was in bed and asleep. My servants will tell you so." "I need not ask them," said George, quickly. "I never thought you were guilty, and I only came to receive your assurance, so that I might tell Bawdsey and prevent him troubling you." "If Bawdsey comes here I'll soon make short work of him," said Ireland, sharply. "I am not afraid." "You need not be. Mrs. Jersey's own confession exonerates you."