There ensued a general conversation relative to the weather, to the doings of a certain politician, and to sundry other subjects more or less vague. George talked excellently, and was conscious that Derrington was listening with approval. Again and again he wondered if the old man really knew who he was, and again and again he failed to arrive at any conclusion. After a time Leonard went with Dorothy to the piano, where she played for his delectation, and Mrs. Ward seized the opportunity to show Vane some new photographs of herself. Derrington and Brendon were practically alone, and the old lord appeared anxious to make himself agreeable. George was watchful for the cloven hoof, but it did not peep out. Truculent tyrant as Derrington was, yet he could play the part of a highly bred, polished gentleman of the old school to perfection. He did so on this occasion. "I have heard of you from Mrs. Ward," he said in his harsh tones, which no amount of politeness could render agreeable, "but I do not think we have met before." "No. I cannot recall any meeting," replied George, wondering if the other was about to hint that he had seen some one resembling him. "I have seen you in the distance, however." "Distance lends enchantment to the view in my case." "You are pleased to say so, Lord Derrington." "I generally do say what I please," responded the old man, shooting a sharp glance at George. "Are you related to the Brendons of Shropshire?" "No. I have not that privilege." Derrington chuckled at this reply. He thought George had a good deal of the man in him when he answered thus fearlessly. "I have seen your name somewhere lately," he observed, "but I can't recall where or in what connection." Brendon laughed, quite at his ease, although he did not know if this was an attempt to make him speak out. However, he did speak out, with the idea of seeing what would happen. "I can supply the connection," said he, lightly, but keenly observant of the old man's face. "My name appeared as a witness at an inquest a week or so back." "Ah, now I remember, Mr. Brendon. Quite so. It was that Amelia Square murder." "You have a good memory, Lord Derrington." "In this case you flatter me, Mr. Brendon. There is no difficulty in my remembering the especial case, as Mrs. Jersey was a tenant of mine." George was not supposed to know this and displayed suitable surprise. "Indeed," he said; "then you have lost a good tenant." "Possibly," replied Derrington, rather grimly. "She always paid her rent regularly. You saw her?" "Yes. My friend, Mr. Train, was stopping in the house----" "That young man." Derrington cast a look in Leonard's direction. "I did not know he was there on that night." "He was a witness also," said Brendon, significantly. "I can't remember all the names sir. Well?" "I stopped for the night with Mr. Train, and during the night Mrs. Jersey was murdered." "You heard nothing--you saw nothing?"