If Mrs. Ward expected to startle Derrington into a confession she was never more mistaken in her calculations. Lord Derrington had not moved in diplomatic circles all his life without knowing how to guard against the display of emotion. With an utterly expressionless face he looked at the stiletto. It was a slender steel blade with a silver handle of Renaissance workmanship, evidently a valuable and curious relic of the Middle Ages. It might have been made by Cellini himself and have been worn by Cesare Borgia. But Derrington stared at it as though he knew nothing about it.

"Well," said Mrs. Ward, sharply, and rather disappointed he did not grovel on the instant, "what do you say?"

Derrington looked at her in rather a humorous manner. "What do you want me to say?" he asked. "Confess that I killed Mrs. Jersey and then brought this weapon carefully home in my pocket for you to discover and use against me?"

"That is a subterfuge," said Mrs. Ward. "You did not expect to find me waiting for you, and you never meant that dagger to be discovered, Lord Derrington."

"I certainly never did," he assented heartily. "I cannot imagine how you came to know more than I did."

"What do you mean?" asked the little woman, sharply.

"Well, you see," said Lord Derrington, quietly, "this is a very clever bit of business on your part, but so far as I am concerned it has nothing to do with me. I never saw that weapon before."

"Oh, that's rubbish!" said Mrs. Ward with a mirthless laugh. "I found it in the pocket of your fur coat on the very----"

"You say you found it there," said Derrington, meaningly.

"Do you deny that it was in the pocket?"

"Certainly. Had it been in the pocket I should have known it was there. But it was not in the pocket."

Mrs. Ward stared. "You are very brazen," she said; "you knew it was there all the time."

"In the pocket?" asked Derrington, politely and perfectly calm.

Mrs. Ward hesitated. Then she faced him defiantly. "I am so sure of my ground," she declared, "that I don't mind saying it wasn't exactly in the pocket. There was a hole in the pocket and the dagger had slipped down into the lining between the inside fur and the outer cloth. It lay sideways, and what with its position and the heavy fur----"

"I could not have known it was there," finished Derrington, balancing a paper-cutter on his forefinger. "You have found a mare's nest, my dear Mrs. Ward, and if this is your trump card I am sorry to say it won't take the trick you wish to secure. I did not know that this--" he touched the stiletto--"was in the lining of my fur coat."

"Then it was, and Mrs. Jersey was stabbed with it."

"Isn't that taking a great deal for granted?" said Derrington, with raised brows. "Mrs. Jersey, according to the doctor, if I recall the report of the inquest rightly, was certainly stabbed with a weapon similar to this. But why do you say this is the one?"

"Because I believe you were in the house on that night."

"Which house? Be explicit, please."

Mrs. Ward was growing angry at this calm defiance. "In the house in Amelia Square. You went there to prevent that Brendon creature from making Mrs. Jersey confess."

Lord Derrington laughed. "You would not make a good lawyer," said he. "By your own showing I did not know that Brendon was to be at Mrs. Jersey's on that night."

"I certainly came to tell you," said Mrs. Ward, feeling that she had missed a point, "but you could easily have heard it elsewhere."

"Who from? Brendon did not advertise in the papers that he was stopping with Mrs. Jersey on the night in question."

"Then Mr. Train----"

"I met Mr. Train for the first time at your house the other night."

"Dorothy told you," said Mrs. Ward, determined not to surrender any advantage she might have gained.

"You can ask your daughter and she will tell you that I had not seen her all that week. Is there any one else, Mrs. Ward?"

The little woman rose to her feet with an artificial laugh and shook out perfume from her silken skirts. "You are very clever and obstinate, Lord Derrington, but how will you explain this--" she pointed to the stiletto--"to the authorities?"

"There will be no need for me to do that," said Derrington, and took up the weapon. Mrs. Ward stretched out her hand.

"My property, if you please, Lord Derrington."

The old gentleman opened a drawer, dropped the weapon into it, and closed the drawer with a snap. "It's locked now," he said coolly. "I shall take charge of this."

"How dare you? I insist----"

"Oh, dear, no! You insist on nothing." Lord Derrington rose, looking like a giant as he towered over the little woman. "My dear Mrs. Ward," said he, quietly, but in his deepest tones, "I have been very patient with you, but this thing must end. You must promise to hold your tongue about Brendon and----"

"And about you, I suppose," she sneered.

"About me?" Derrington's tone expressed surprise. "What have you to hold your tongue about as regards me?"

Mrs. Ward stamped, though as a rule she was not given to betraying violent emotion. "Oh, it's too ridiculous!" she said furiously. "I can say to the police how I found the stiletto in your coat, I suppose."

"I should advise you not to talk to any one about a thing which exists only in your imagination."

"The stiletto----"

"What are you talking of, Mrs. Ward?"

"It's in that drawer." She pointed to the table.

"Oh, dear, no, it isn't," said Derrington, blandly; "there is no stiletto, there never was one. We have had a nice talk--shall we say about chiffons?" In spite of her rage at being outwitted Mrs. Ward gave a hollow laugh at the thought of Lord Derrington discussing chiffons. "A nice talk, I say, and now we must part."

"Not before I have had my say," said Mrs. Ward, savagely. "I see perfectly well that I have been foolish to let that stiletto get into your hands. But I thought I was dealing with a man of honor."

"Ah, Mrs. Ward, few of us can aspire to your high principles!"

The sneer infuriated her. "You can deny the stiletto if you like to the public, but you dare not do so to me."

"Why not? For the sake of argument we will admit the existence of the weapon. You come here with it in your hand and state that you found it in my coat--in the lining of the coat."

"And I did--I did--you know I did."

"Indeed, I know nothing of the sort. I deny that the stiletto was ever in pocket or in lining. I did not see you take it out."

"I waited till you were out of the room before I examined the coat."

"Of course, but by doing so you have defeated your own object. Had you produced the weapon from the coat and showed it to me at the very moment, your accusation might have held water. As it is, the thing is simply ridiculous. You come here, you accuse me of a crime----"

"I did not accuse you," said Mrs. Ward, beginning to find that Derrington was too much even for her. "I believe Brendon killed the woman--oh, yes! You went to the house and you saw him. He and Mrs. Jersey had words, as she would not confess, and Brendon killed her with the stiletto. Then you came in, and to save him you put the dagger into your pocket, sent him up to bed, and promised to hold your tongue, and----"

Derrington laughed. "You have a most vivid imagination, Mrs. Ward," he said, with a shrug; "but, as it happens, you are talking nonsense. I was not at Amelia Square that evening, but at my club, as any member then present can assure you. I can prove what is called an alibi, Mrs. Ward, which means that I can account for every moment of my time, from the minute I left this house to the minute I returned to find you here. As to the stiletto you say you took out of my pocket, that is rubbish. On the whole, I think you had better hold your tongue."

"If I go to the police they will open that drawer."

"Oh, no! An Englishman's house is his castle, you know, and a man in my position cannot be treated in the way you suggest with impunity. Moreover, Mrs. Ward, there is ample time to destroy the stiletto."

"Which you will do," she said, recovering her composure, now that she found it was useless to protest.

"No. I wouldn't even mind showing it to the police and saying how you brought it here with an accusation. If the police can prove that this is the weapon with which Mrs. Jersey was stabbed, and if you and the police can prove that the stiletto was in my pocket on the night of the murder, then you and the police--" Derrington made an ironical bow--"are extremely clever."

"Oh, very well," said Mrs. Ward, realizing her defeat, "I shall say nothing about you. But Brendon----"

"You will hold your tongue about him also. I quite understand how you proposed to hold this stiletto, and the tale of its being discovered in my pocket, over me. If I did not consent to the marriage of Miss Ward and Walter--eh?"

"I must do the best for my child."

"Even going so far as threats. Well, I have too high a respect for Miss Ward to ask her to marry such a worm as Walter. She would do better to take Brendon."

"She shan't marry him."

"Why do you hate the man so?" asked Derrington, looking into her eyes. "I know he is a strong man, and for the money's sake you do not want him to be your son-in-law. But even this does not account for your hatred. Why do you hate him?"

"I have nothing to say," retorted Mrs. Ward, who had flushed and paled alternately during this speech. "Please see me to the door."

Derrington walked to the door and opened it with a bow. "Willingly. I think we understand one another."

"I think we do," said Mrs. Ward, with an artificial laugh. "You do credit to your reputation, Lord Derrington."

"Praise from Mrs. Ward is praise, indeed," said the ironical old gentleman as he descended the stairs side by side with the woman who could have found it in her heart to kill him. "I am sorry to ask you to leave me so soon, as our conversation was most enjoyable. But I have to see a certain Mr. Ireland----"

"Is that Brendon's guardian?" asked Mrs. Ward, coming to a sudden stop in the hall.

"His former guardian," corrected Derrington. "How do you come to know of him, Mrs. Ward?"

"I think Dorothy mentioned the name," she said in rather a faltering tone. "Dear me, how my face burns! I wish I had a veil."

"I am sorry, Mrs. Ward, but the late Lady Derrington's veils are not modern enough for you."

"What nonsense!" said Mrs. Ward, who appeared flurried. "Please tell your man to call a cab. I sent away the carriage."

"Let me send you home in mine."

"No! No, I want to go at once," and she approached the door quickly. "When did you say Mr. Ireland was coming?"

Derrington glanced at his watch. "He is due now," he said, and looked at her, wondering why she asked the question.

Mrs. Ward's face was turned away. She was dressed in furs and carried a muff. When the door was opened by the footman a gentleman appeared on the threshold. Mrs. Ward lifted her muff to her face, but not before the stranger had caught sight of her face and had uttered an ejaculation of surprise. "You!" he said, stepping forward.

"What do you mean?" said Mrs. Ward, with her face still hidden. "Lord Derrington, this friend of yours is making a mistake. Tell that man to be quick calling a cab."............