“Oh, no, sir, never.”
“Never has to take anything to induce sleep?”
“Oh, n’ no—never.” But this time there was hesitation, and I pictured Alma as unable to sleep and resorting to a mild sedative.
“All right, Dora, good-bye, and many thanks.”
We went down to the boathouse, and the man there was still glum and unsmiling. Nor did our substantial douceur give him any apparent pleasure. He pocketed it without a word, and pushed off our boat with a jerk that had the effect of his being glad to be rid of us.
March was unperturbed by all this and of course it mattered little to me.
I was consumed with curiosity to know if March had learned anything indicative.
“I found a few trifles,” he vouchsafed to tell me, “but I can’t describe them at the moment.”
“Being a detective, you have to be mysterious,” I growled.
“Yes, just that,” he agreed, cheerfully, and we proceeded in silence. “They’re just leaving the burying ground,” he said, at last. “Shall we go and pay our final respects?”