But Miss Butterworth did not resent it; she was too full of a fresh confession she had to make.
"Ah," said she, "if they had been the only persons I encountered there.
But they were not.

Another person entered the house before I left it, and I may be obliged to speak of him." "Of him?
Really, madam, you are a mine of intelligence." "Yes, sir," was the meek reply; meek, when you consider from whose lips it came.

"I ought to have spoken of him before, but I never like to mix matters, and this old gentleman----" "Old gentleman!" "Yes, sir, very old and very much of a gentleman, did not appear to have any connection with the crime beyond knowing the murdered man." "Ah, but that's a big connection, ma'am.

To find some one who knew Mr.
Adams--really, madam, patience has its limits, and I must press you to speak." "Oh, I will speak! The time has come for it.

Besides, I'm quite ready to discuss this new theme; it is very interesting." "Suppose we begin, then, by a detailed account of your adventures in this house of death," dryly suggested the detective.