“He was not! Lordy, the germs coulda carried him off and he’d never noticed it. He wudden’t know whether I swept or dusted rightly, or whether I gave the place a lick and a promise. He was wrapped up in his own affairs so’s you could hardly get his attention to ask him anythin’. Why, miss?” “Don’t ask me why,—ever!” Zizi spoke sharply but not unkindly, and the girl remembered. “Now, Molly, the day before Sir Herbert moved in, he had the sitting-room cleaned and repapered. If he wasn’t afraid of germs, why have new paper?” “Well, the old stuff was a sight, miss. All over, a dark green sorta lattice work pattern with smashin’ big red roses.” “Sounds rather effective——” “A nightmare, that’s what it was. Well, Sir Herbert, the minnit he looked at it he said, ‘Rip it off!’” “Did you hear him say it?” “No, miss, the bellboy told me. He was luggin’ up bags and things and he said the new man was a peppery cuss.” “Was he?” “Why, no, he didn’t seem that way to me. Easy-goin’, I sh’d say. Absent-minded, now an’ then,—av’rage generous, an’ not payin’ much attention to his surroundin’s. That’s the way _I_ size up Sir Binney.” “And who do you think killed him?” “Oh, Lordy, don’t ask me that!” The girl looked frightened, and quick-witted Zizi, instead of pursuing the subject then, turned it off with, “No, indeed, when detectives are busy on the case, small need to ask outsiders.” “Not that I’m exactly an outsider, neither,” and Molly bridled as with a sense of self-importance. “Of course a chambermaid, now, can’t help seein’ a lot of what goes on.” “Of course not,” Zizi said, carelessly. “But she isn’t supposed to tattle and I shouldn’t dream of quizzing you.” “No, ma’am. Not but what I could tell things——” “But you wouldn’t. You might get into serious trouble if you did.” Molly looked at her sharply. “As how, miss?” she said. “Well, you see, it’s very hard to tell anything just exactly as it happened, and if you should vary a shade from the truth, and then tell it differently next time you might get arrested for—for perjury.” “Arrested! Do you mean that?” “I certainly do. I’ve known girls to tell stories under stress of excitement and then try to repeat them and get all mixed up, and, oh, well, it’s a dangerous performance.” “But if I just told _you_, now, miss?” “What have you to tell? And why do you want to tell anybody?” “I thought—I thought if I told I might get something for it.” “I like your frankness, Molly, and I don’t mind offering you a fair price for your goods, _if_ you can put ’em up. But can you?” “Ma’am?” “Do you really how anything of importance, that might lead to the discovery of the people who murdered Sir Herbert Binney? I don’t want any hemming and hawing, but a straight answer.” “Well, I can’t give you a positive answer, because I don’t know myself. But I do know somebody has been in the rooms since, several times, searching about for something.” “What did this person seem to be looking for?”