‘Oh my God,’ uttered Gerald in some dismay. The warm September sun fell strongly on this part of the grounds, uninterrupted by trees, its light bouncing off the glass in the mansion’s walls. “I supposed that he took off his hat to you. You’ve placed me in a very exceptional position, Miss Stanley. He was standing by, rating her ladyship,—who can scarcely stir from the sofa,—while I was packing up her jewels in the case, and I observed that she tried to hide a small casket from him. You, sir,” he added, turning to Brendon, “had better take my card round to the police station in Werner Street and ask that Detective Dorling be sent round here at once on urgent business. He dodged the boot this time, and smashed his left upon the Wastrel's lips, leaving them bloody pulp. “Experte credo. ” He slipped off the horse.
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