The two men were in a corner of the room, and Clancy was expostulating angrily with Hale.  They held their peace when Caranby drifted near them, he saw that they were on their guard.  Looking round, he espied Jennings playing at a side table, and crossed to him.

“Permit me to take your place,” said Caranby, and added in a low tone, “watch Hale and Clancy!”

Jennings seized the idea at once and surrendered the chair to the old nobleman.  Then he lighted a cigarette and by degrees strolled across the room to where the two were again talking vigorously.  “I tell you if Basil is pressed too hard he will—­” Clancy was saying, but shut his mouth as he saw Jennings at his elbow.  The detective came forward with a smile, inwardly vexed that he had not been able to hear more.  As he advanced he saw Clancy touch Hale on the arm.

“How are you?” said Jennings, taking the initiative, “we met at that inquest, I believe.”

“Yes,” said Hale, polite and smiling, “I remember, Mr. Jennings!  I had seen you here before, but I never knew your calling.”

“I don’t tell it to everyone,” said Jennings, “How do you do, Mr. Clancy?  I hope you are well.  An amusing place this.”

“I need amusement,” said Clancy, again assuming his silly smile, “since the death of my dear friend.  By the way, have you found out who killed her, Mr. Jennings?”

“No.  I fear the assassin will never be discovered.”  Here the two men exchanged a glance.  “I am engaged on other cases.  There was only one point I wished to learn in connection with Miss Loach’s death.”

“What is that?” asked Hale calmly.

“Was Mrs. Herne in Miss Loach’s bedroom on that night?”

“I forget,” said Clancy before Hale could speak.

“That’s a pity,” resumed Jennings.  “You see from the fact of the bell having been sounded, it struck me that the assassin may have been concealed in the bedroom.  Now if Mrs. Herne was in that room, she might have noticed something.”

“I don’t think she did,” said Hale hastily.  “Mrs. Herne and I left early, owing to Clancy here having offended her.  Besides, Mrs. Herne told all she knew at the inquest.”

“All save that point.”

“The question was not asked,” said Clancy.

“No.  I should like to ask Mrs. Herne now, but it seems she has gone away from Hampstead.”

“I don’t care if she has,” grumbled Clancy, “I hated Mrs. Herne.  She was always quarrelling.  Did you call to see her?”

“Yes, but I could not learn where she was.  Now, as you are her lawyer, Mr. Hale, you may know.”

“She is at Brighton,” replied Hale readily, “at the Metropolitan Hotel, but she returns to Hampstead in a week.”

Jennings was secretly astonished at his question being thus answered, as he was inclined to suspect the men.  However, he took a note of the address, and said he would attend to the matter.  “But, to tell you the truth, it is useless,” he said.  “The assassin will never be discovered.  Moreover, there is no reward, and I should only work for no wages.  You stay at Rose Cottage now, I believe, Mr. Clancy?”