The Grenadier set her lips in a straight line, and looked sternly at Corson. “You can draw any deductions you wish, Mr Corson,” she went on, acidly, but positively; “I tell you that I know Mr Crippen very well, and I wouldn’t believe a word he says, unless I had the corroboration of another.”
“Be careful, Letitia,” warned Miss Gurney.
“You shut up, Eliza! I’ll say what I choose.”
“Do, Miss Prall,” urged Corson. “You’re decidedly interesting. May I be forgiven if I look about a little. What unusual curios and treasures you possess.”
“I do; but this is no time to examine or comment on those. If you have questioned me all you wish,—though, for my part, I don’t think you’ve questioned me at all,—suppose we consider this interview at an end.”
“Why, Aunt Letitia, have you no wish to find out who killed Uncle Herbert?” asked Richard.
“I can’t say that I have. He’s dead; no punishment of his murderer can bring him back. He was no relative of mine, nor was he such a friend that I’m thirsting to avenge his life. For my part, I only want to have the matter hushed up. The unavoidable publicity and notoriety are most distressing!”
“I haven’t questioned you much, I admit, Miss Prall,” observed the detective, “but I have found out a great deal since I have been here.”
“Yes?” she returned, coolly, with a haughty nod.
“Yes; are you interested to know what I have learned?”