"Absolutely. He would have exaggerated more if he had been forcing an invention upon us."
I sat down and, regarding Underhill across the table, remarked somewhat pointedly:
"Now that the name has been mentioned between us, we can talk more openly. What date have you been able to give to Yox's adventure? You surely have not failed to get from him the day he went down to Mother Merry's?"
Sam rose—he who detested rising—and, going to a little side table where a pile of newspapers lay, he pulled off the top one and laid it open before me, taking care, however, to stretch his arm across the upper margin in a way to cover up effectually the date.
"Read," said he, pointing to a paragraph.
I followed his finger and read out a brief account of the descent which had been made on Mother Merry's, and a description of the proceedings which had ended in the release of the women involved.
"Now take a look at the date," he went on, lifting his arm.
I did so; it was a memorable one,—the evening of Mr. Gillespie's death.
"The affair at Mother Merry's took place on the preceding night," commented Sam. There was no languishing note in his voice now.
I sat silent; when I did speak it was plainly and decidedly.