"I should like to see you in Brabazon's smoking-room in about half an
hour."
He raised sullen eyes to my face.
"Come," I said, laying my hand on his shoulder, "I tell you at once I
do not believe that you killed that poor fellow, but we must talk the
matter over. I am anxious to be your friend. It is absolutely necessary
that you should confide in someone. I am as unbiased in my views of the
whole situation as man can be. Come and talk to me in half an hour in
the smoking-room."
He did not say a word, but I knew by the way in which he suddenly
grasped my hand that he would come.
The dead man was carried into the library, where he was laid reverently
on a table. Brabazon then had a consultation with me as to the best
means of breaking the news to Lord and Lady Hartmore. Poor Randall was
their only son; it was a terrible business altogether, and Brabazon was
naturally greatly distressed.
I asked after Miss Farnham. He told me that she had gone straight to
her room. His tone was scarcely sympathetic, and I looked at him in
wonder.
"I have no patience with her," he exclaimed. "She has behaved very
badly--this awful thing would not have occurred but for her. She has
driven poor Carleton----"