"And probably did no harm. Don't get worried. Who was she?"
"A girl named Jones, sir, Drusilla Jones." An expression akin to horror dawned in Nelson's eyes as he grasped for the first time the significance of what he was about to add. "She had been keeping company with a fellow named Charlie Maxon, who was put in jail a few days ago by Mr. Varr—and last evening Charlie drugged his keeper and never was missed until this morning!"
"My sainted aunt! What time did he break jail?"
"Moody—the keeper—says the last thing he remembers was the clock strikin' ten."
"Krech, do they know what time Varr was murdered?"
"Approximately at eleven."
"Let's hope for his sake that Charles has a whacking good alibi! Have you told the police about your talk with Drusilla Jones?"
"No, sir, they haven't been near me yet."
"Oh. Well, eventually you will find yourself having a heart-to-heart talk with a man named Norvallis. Don't fail to tell him about your chat with the lady—and you might just say that I advised you to repeat it to him, will you?"
"Why, yes, sir. Do you think that Charlie Maxon—?"