At every conjecture which he expressed, Jenny Prask slammed a door in his face.
"But you told me----" he cried, turning to Harry Luttrell and so broke off.

"Are you speaking the truth, Jenny ?" Suddenly Jenny's composure broke up.

The blood rushed into her face.

She shouted violently: "I swear it! If it was my last dying word, I do! Chloroform indeed!" She became sarcastic.

"What an idea! Just fancy!" Sir Chichester threw down his pen.