"What words are those?" I asked.
"I don't know, they are half gone as you can see. They have nothing to do with the story. I read you the whole of that."
Mistress as she was of her moods and expression I detected traces of some slight confusion.
"The putting up of the partition is not explained," I remarked.
"Oh, that was put up in horror of the stains which from time to time broke out on the ceiling at that end of the room."
I wished to ask her if this was her conclusion or if that line or two I have mentioned was more intelligible than she had acknowledged it to be. But I refrained from a sense of propriety.
If she appreciated my forbearance she did not show it. Rising, she thrust the papers into a cupboard, casting a scarcely perceptible glance at the clock as she did so.
I took the hint and rose. Instantly she was all smiles.
"You have forgotten something, Mr. Trevitt. Surely you do not intend to carry away with you my key to the bungalow."
"I was thinking of it," I returned lightly. "I am not quite through with that key." Then before she could recover from her surprise, I added with such suavity as I had been able to acquire in my intercourse with my more cultivated clients: