In the circumstances, Derrick was not uncomfortably lodged. The lock-up
was an ancient, knock-down affair, and the Inspector had arranged that
Derrick should occupy one of the rooms in the adjoining police-station.
Here, Mr. Jacobs and Mr. Clendon found him, if not altogether resigned
to the situation, at any rate not cast down or despondent.

"Well, here we are," said Mr. Jacobs, cheerfully. "I hope they've made
you as comfortable as possible, Mr.--Green. I've brought a friend of
yours with me, and I have a message from another friend of yours, Miss
Grant. She says she will pay you a visit whenever you like to see her."

Derrick shook his head. "I don't want her to come here," he said. "But
I'm very glad to see Mr. Clendon."

"By the way," cut in Mr. Jacobs, "I ought to introduce this gentleman by
his right name, or, rather, title. You will be very much surprised to
hear, Mr. Green, that Mr. Clendon is the Marquess of Sutcombe. It's a
long story, but, with your permission, I will put it into a sentence.
His lordship is the elder brother, who was thought to be dead, but has
turned up--if his lordship will allow me the phrase."

"It is true," said Mr. Clendon, as we must still call him; and he made
the admission with an air of resignation and a gesture of regret. "But
we have come to talk of your affairs."