The laugh with which he delivered this last sentence might have been heard a quarter of a mile away. Lucetta looked at Loreen and Loreen looked at me, but none of us joined in the mirth, which seemed to me very ill-timed.
Suddenly Lucetta asked:
"Did they dig up Mr. Trohm's cellar?"
William stopped laughing long enough to say:
"His cellar? Why, it's cemented as hard as an oak floor. No, they didn't polish their spades in his house, which was another source of satisfaction to me. Deacon Spear hasn't even that to comfort him. Oh, how I did enjoy that old fellow's face when they began to root up his old fungi!"
Lucetta turned away with a certain odd constraint I could not but notice.
"It's a humiliating day for the lane," said she. "And what is worse," she suddenly added, "nothing will ever come of it. It will take more than a band of police to reach the root of this matter."
I thought her manner odd, and, moving towards her, took her by the hand with something of a relative's familiarity.
"What makes you say that? Mr. Gryce seems a very capable man."
"Yes, yes, but capability has nothing to do with it. Chance might and pluck might, but wit and experience not. Otherwise the mystery would have been settled long ago. I wish I——"