“Oh, I know what for,” she cried, clasping her fat hands, and giving an unpleasant little giggle, “to talk about the murder! Yes, yes, and please don’t mind me. I want to hear the details; have you found out who did it? Who was it? Was it those sweet little dancing girlies? I can’t think it!” “Keep quiet, Adeline,” said Miss Prall; “how you do run on! I should think you’d have the tact to take your leave,—but you never had even ordinary good manners. I can scarcely invite you to depart, but I do feel privileged to say you may go if you feel you must.” “Oh, I don’t feel I must at all! On the contrary, I want to stay and hear the news. For I’m sure this gentleman has some news. I can see it sticking out all over him! Go ahead, sir, tell your story. I feel I’m entitled to be in the audience.” She settled herself in her chair and looked as if nothing less than a really severe earthquake would move her. Her big round eyes danced from Letitia’s face to the detective’s. Her smile broadened as she enjoyed the discomfiture of her enforced hostess. And she positively reveled in the awkward and embarrassed silence that fell on all in the room. Then Eliza Gurney said, “Adeline Everett, if you take my advice, you’ll go away before you’re put out!” “I’ve never taken your advice yet, Eliza, and I don’t propose to begin now. Also, you’d better not put me out, for if you do, I shall think that what Mr Gibbs is about to reveal is something you don’t want known,—something incriminating to some of your own people!” Apparently she had heard something, Gibbs thought quickly, and he was more than ever anxious to get her away. But, not knowing how to manage such an unusual type of womankind, he said instead that he thought he should retire and make his call some other time. CHAPTER XI The Old Feud And Detective Gibbs did retire and did make his call some other time, but he made it not on Miss Prall, but on Mrs Everett. He had fancied from her attitude that he could learn much from her if he could manage to gain her attention and enlist her sympathies. With this end in view he went to see her later the same day, and found her not unwilling to talk with him. “I thought I should die,” she exclaimed, clasping her plump little hands and rocking back and forth in a becushioned wicker chair, “to see Letitia Prall wriggle around! Why, Mr Gibbs, it’s clear to be seen she knows more than she has told or means to tell! Aren’t you going to make her talk?” “Why do you think she knows something?” countered the detective. “Oh, I know her so well. When she purses up her thin lips and then widens them out to a straight line again, several times in succession, that’s a sure sign she’s terribly upset. Didn’t you notice her do that? It’s a peculiar habit, and I know what it means! Letitia Prall was nearly frantic for fear you’d find out something she doesn’t want you to know!”