"Other people can send the same perfume to England," retorted Freddy. "Penn isn't the sole person who has friends in Sumatra. Mrs. Jarsell, since she gave the scent to Miss Armour, may have friends in that island. Ask her." "No," said Dan, very positively. "I shall ask no one until I make Penn speak out. In any case, I want to know why he told a lie." "Perhaps he didn't." "I'm jolly well sure that he did." "Then, to put it plainly--you suspect Mrs. Jarsell?" "To answer plainly, I don't. There can be no connection between two harmless old ladies living in these wilds and the murder of Sir Charles. Yet this confounded scent forms a link between the dead man, Mrs. Jarsell, and Penn." Laurance rubbed his chin reflectively. "It's odd, to say the least of it. I suppose you are certain the perfume is the same?" "I'll swear to it." Dan rose and knocked the ashes out of his pipe. "And I intend to learn how Mrs. Jarsell became possessed of it. I may be on a wild goose chase. All the same, with the stake I have, I can't afford to lose an opportunity." "So Miss Armour said, when she told your fortune," commented Freddy thoughtfully. "Yes. I wonder what she meant?" Dan stretched himself. "I'm for bed. Ring the bell, and ask Mrs. Pelgrin for the spirits." Laurance, not feeling called upon to resume the conversation, as he was tired himself, did as he was told, and Mrs. Pelgrin, raw-boned and grim, bounced aggressively into the room, to demand fiercely what they required. She sniffed when whiskey was ordered, but as its consumption would increase her bill, she brought in a bottle of "Johnny Walker" and a siphon of soda, without argument. When she turned to depart, and wished them good-night in tones suggestive of a jailer, a sudden thought struck Dan. It would not be amiss, he thought, to question Mrs. Pelgrin concerning the hermit ladies. Not that he expected a great deal to result from his exanimation, as the worthy woman was a she-cat, and what she knew would probably have to be clawed out of her. "We had tea at The Grange to-day, Mrs. Pelgrin," said Dan casually. The landlady wrapped her hands in her apron and wheeled grimly at the door to speak aggressively. "Ho!" she grunted. "What's that?" "I said 'Ho,' and 'Ho's' all I'm going to say." "Well," drawled Freddy with a shrug, "you can't say much less, you know." "Less or much, I don't say anything," retorted Mrs. Pelgrin, screwing up her hard mouth and nodding. "Nobody wants you to say anything," remarked Dan lazily, but on the alert. Of course this speech opened the landlady's mouth. "People say as it's queer two ladies should live like dormice in a haystack," she observed significantly. "That's like people. They will meddle with what doesn't concern them." "Not me," snorted Mrs. Pelgrin violently and epigrammatically. "I don't say what I could say, for what I could say wouldn't be what's right to say." "Wouldn't it?" inquired Freddy innocently.