“Oh, nothing,—nothing connected with the—the tragedy, of course. But perhaps the interview did occur, and for some reason Mr Crippen doesn’t want it known—can’t you see, Mr Corson, that it’s a queer thing that nobody comes forward to tell where Sir Herbert was those last two hours of his life? Well, mightn’t he have been with Mr Crippen,—remember, he told me he expected to see him,—and whatever their conference resulted in, might not Mr Crippen have wished it kept quiet——” “And so, denied it? Why, it might be so, Miss Prall,—but in such a serious case Mr Crippen would hesitate before he would be anything but sincere in his story. It’s a risky matter to falsify when a murder case is being investigated!” “I know it,” and Miss Prall smoothed the folds of her gown placidly. “But, you see, I know Mr Crippen.” “Oh, come now, Auntie,” broke in Richard, “just because Crip was an old beau of yours, don’t say things against him.” “I’m not saying anything against him, Ricky, I only say I know him. If that’s a damaging admission, it’s his fault, not mine.” The Grenadier set her lips in a straight line, and looked sternly at Corson. “You can draw any deductions you wish, Mr Corson,” she went on, acidly, but positively; “I tell you that I know Mr Crippen very well, and I wouldn’t believe a word he says, unless I had the corroboration of another.” “Be careful, Letitia,” warned Miss Gurney. “You shut up, Eliza! I’ll say what I choose.” “Do, Miss Prall,” urged Corson. “You’re decidedly interesting. May I be forgiven if I look about a little. What unusual curios and treasures you possess.” “I do; but this is no time to examine or comment on those. If you have questioned me all you wish,—though, for my part, I don’t think you’ve questioned me at all,—suppose we consider this interview at an end.” “Why, Aunt Letitia, have you no wish to find out who killed Uncle Herbert?” asked Richard. “I can’t say that I have. He’s dead; no punishment of his murderer can bring him back. He was no relative of mine, nor was he such a friend that I’m thirsting to avenge his life. For my part, I only want to have the matter hushed up. The unavoidable publicity and notoriety are most distressing!” “I haven’t questioned you much, I admit, Miss Prall,” observed the detective, “but I have found out a great deal since I have been here.” “Yes?” she returned, coolly, with a haughty nod. “Yes; are you interested to know what I have learned?” “I am not. It is all beneath my notice. I assume you will use your information in any way you see fit—but the way, nor the result, interests me not at all.” “Don’t talk like that, Letitia,” and Eliza looked deeply concerned. “Mr Corson will think you a hard-hearted woman.” “He has my permission to do so.” “Oh, stop, Auntie!” Bates cried, earnestly. “You get yourself misunderstood by such talk. You’re not hard-hearted,—except regarding your foolish feud. In all other ways you’re normally kind and generous minded.”