"Now Gracie," said Dick, as they wended their way to a small "jobbing" printer with whom he was acquainted; he himself had spent a few weeks in a printing office, and, as a Jack of all trades, could do something in the way of picking up stamps. "Now, Gracie, pay particular attention to what I'm going to say."
"I'd like to have a word first, please," she said.
"Go ahead."
"Who is that young gentleman with the white face that the young lady's so fond of?"
"The young lady's husband, the son of Mr. Samuel Boyd."
"Mr. Reginald. I thought so. He don't look as if he could have done it."
"Done what?"
"You know. The murder."
"He did not do it, Gracie. I suppose you heard Dr. Vinsen say he did."
"He was talking to mother, but he didn't say it outright----"