“Yes, sir.”
“But you were not there when Miss Remsen lived there?”
“No, sir.”
“No. Now, Jennie, you told Mrs. Moore you knew something about the night of Mr. Tracy’s death.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Is it, do you think, of importance?”
“Yes, sir.”
Not only the monotony of the girl’s monosyllabic replies, but the enigmatic smile that played about her lips and was remindful of the Mona Lisa, began to grate on the nerves of all of us.
But March swallowed, took a long breath, and plunged into the matter.
“Then, Jennie, since you deem it of importance, tell it to us, and we will see what we think about it.”