“Unless you are unusually acute of hearing, are you?”
Now this was a sensitive point with the spinster. Her hearing was not what it had once been, but she never acknowledged it. She greatly resented the busy finger of time as it touched her here and there, and often pretended she heard when she did not. Both her nephew and her companion good-naturedly humored her in this little foible, and at Gibbs’ question they looked up, uncertainly.
“Of course I am!” was Miss Prall’s indignant reply to the detective’s question. “I hear perfectly.”
“Are you sure?” said Gibbs, mildly; “for I have noticed several times when you have seemed not to hear a side remark.”
“Inattention, then,” snapped Letitia. “I am a thoughtful person, and I often take little notice of others’ chatter.”
“But you are sure you could have heard your nephew if he had gone out of his place last night after——”
“But I didn’t go out!” declared Bates. “You’re absurd to imply that I did, unless you have some reason on which to base your accusation!”
“We have to locate you before we can go further, Mr Bates,” insisted Gibbs, who had assumed leadership, while Corson sat, with folded arms, taking in anything he found to notice.
And Corson, though lacking in initiative, was a close observer, and he saw a lot that would have escaped his notice had he been obliged to carry on the inquiry.
“Let’s try it,” Corson said, suddenly. “Go into your room, please, Miss Prall, and shut the door, and see if you can hear me go out.”