holder for cheek and impudence. Gone in to talk to the two girls, has he? Well, we wonât interrupt them just yet, though I would give a yearâs pay to hear what heâs saying to them.â
âI think he and Miss Jennie are alone,â Bobby said. âI saw Miss Brenda come out of the drawing-room and go upstairs soon after he went in.â
âTactful young woman,â observed Mitchell. âMakes me want to know still more what the other two are saying. A real sleuth, young man, would be hiding under the drawing-room table, noting down every word. I suppose you never thought of that?â
âNo, sir,â said Bobby.
âPity,â said Mitchell, ânot that listeners often hear anything thatâs much use â the really successful detective is the man who sits in his office waiting for people to come and tell him things. Hullo, whoâs that?â he added as there came a knock at the door. âSome of our people again?â
âShall I go?â Bobby said, and when he opened the door â Lewis, slumbering more or less profoundly on a chair in his pantry, had heard nothing â he saw a tall, thin, pale young man, with a high forehead, deep-set, eager eyes, a mouth of which the long, thin lips were twitching nervously. He had no hat, and his hair, which he wore rather long, hung over his forehead. He had a trick of frequently tossing his head to throw these loose locks back. Bobby noticed specially his hands, which were long and white, rather beautifully shaped and evidently very carefully tended. In his manner was something intense, or rather repressed, as if all the time he were holding his full energies in check, and when he spoke it was with a slight stammer, though whether that was habitual or the result of present excitement, Bobby could not tell.
âOh, police,â he said now, staring at Bobbyâs uniform, âpolice â itâs true then?â
Bobby said nothing, but waited. The stranger went on:
âMy nameâs Lester â Mark Lester. Iâm a friend. Weâve heard Sir Christopher has been shot â is it true? I came at once. Is Miss Laing up still, do you know?â
âMr Lester?â Bobby repeated, remembering the name at once. âYou had better come in. I think Mr Mitchell would like to see you â Mr Mitchell is in charge of the case at present.â
âThen it is true?â Mark exclaimed, following Bobby across the hall to the study. âWhat a dreadful thing â I came as soon as I heard. Itâs Miss Laing I came to see.â
âMr Mark Lester, is it?â asked Mitchell from the study where he had been listening to all this. âThe young gentleman who is engaged to Miss Laing? Come in here for one moment, Mr Lester,â and beckoning Mark into the study he let loose on him such a flood of talk and of comment on the terrible nature of all such events, and on the invincible determination of the force he had the honour to represent to bring those guilty to justice, that Mark, at first quite dazed, began soon to show impatience and restlessness. But Mitchellâs flood of talk flowed on, and Bobby would have wondered at it, too, had he not by now begun to understand that with Mitchell, not only did his brain work faster and clearer when his tongue was wagging unrestrainedly, but that he used the spate of words always at his command to distract the attention of others, to soothe their suspicions or doubts and to lull them into a sense of security.
âJust so, just so,â Mark said, at last managing to get a word in, and at the same time edging towards the door. âI thought if I could see Miss Laing if sheâs still up...â
But Mitchell had him by the top button of his coat and now launched into a fresh exordium.
âExactly,â said Mark, very firmly indeed, and with a jerk freed himself from Mitchellâs detaining finger and thumb.
But when he turned
âI think he and Miss Jennie are alone,â Bobby said. âI saw Miss Brenda come out of the drawing-room and go upstairs soon after he went in.â
âTactful young woman,â observed Mitchell. âMakes me want to know still more what the other two are saying. A real sleuth, young man, would be hiding under the drawing-room table, noting down every word. I suppose you never thought of that?â
âNo, sir,â said Bobby.
âPity,â said Mitchell, ânot that listeners often hear anything thatâs much use â the really successful detective is the man who sits in his office waiting for people to come and tell him things. Hullo, whoâs that?â he added as there came a knock at the door. âSome of our people again?â
âShall I go?â Bobby said, and when he opened the door â Lewis, slumbering more or less profoundly on a chair in his pantry, had heard nothing â he saw a tall, thin, pale young man, with a high forehead, deep-set, eager eyes, a mouth of which the long, thin lips were twitching nervously. He had no hat, and his hair, which he wore rather long, hung over his forehead. He had a trick of frequently tossing his head to throw these loose locks back. Bobby noticed specially his hands, which were long and white, rather beautifully shaped and evidently very carefully tended. In his manner was something intense, or rather repressed, as if all the time he were holding his full energies in check, and when he spoke it was with a slight stammer, though whether that was habitual or the result of present excitement, Bobby could not tell.
âOh, police,â he said now, staring at Bobbyâs uniform, âpolice â itâs true then?â
Bobby said nothing, but waited. The stranger went on:
âMy nameâs Lester â Mark Lester. Iâm a friend. Weâve heard Sir Christopher has been shot â is it true? I came at once. Is Miss Laing up still, do you know?â
âMr Lester?â Bobby repeated, remembering the name at once. âYou had better come in. I think Mr Mitchell would like to see you â Mr Mitchell is in charge of the case at present.â
âThen it is true?â Mark exclaimed, following Bobby across the hall to the study. âWhat a dreadful thing â I came as soon as I heard. Itâs Miss Laing I came to see.â
âMr Mark Lester, is it?â asked Mitchell from the study where he had been listening to all this. âThe young gentleman who is engaged to Miss Laing? Come in here for one moment, Mr Lester,â and beckoning Mark into the study he let loose on him such a flood of talk and of comment on the terrible nature of all such events, and on the invincible determination of the force he had the honour to represent to bring those guilty to justice, that Mark, at first quite dazed, began soon to show impatience and restlessness. But Mitchellâs flood of talk flowed on, and Bobby would have wondered at it, too, had he not by now begun to understand that with Mitchell, not only did his brain work faster and clearer when his tongue was wagging unrestrainedly, but that he used the spate of words always at his command to distract the attention of others, to soothe their suspicions or doubts and to lull them into a sense of security.
âJust so, just so,â Mark said, at last managing to get a word in, and at the same time edging towards the door. âI thought if I could see Miss Laing if sheâs still up...â
But Mitchell had him by the top button of his coat and now launched into a fresh exordium.
âExactly,â said Mark, very firmly indeed, and with a jerk freed himself from Mitchellâs detaining finger and thumb.
But when he turned
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