"Perfectly all right."
"I rang up Major Adams's to speak to Phil. The major said—"
"Uh-huh. We can guess what he said. No, you don't! Keep away from that door, and let the gal sleep." He turned to Mrs. Propper. "Now, ma'am. Where's this window that the burglar got in by?"
Mrs. Propper was rapidly approaching a state that bordered on the frantic. "Sir, you're not going to let that murderer…?"
"What murderer?" demanded Sharpless.
"It was him," said Mrs. Propper, pointing her finger at Sharpless. "I take my oath on it. It was him that got in through the winder."
Sharpless had removed his cap, so that rain-drops splashed her and made her run behind H.M. for protectum. Shaking his cap, Sharpless turned a face of incredulous astonishment, hollowed by the lights.
Holding to H.M.'s arm and dragging him with her, Mrs. Propper hurried to a door a little way down the hall. She made him reach inside and switch on the light.
It revealed an empty bedroom, unused and chilly-looking, whose two windows were on the side of the house facing south. One window stood wide open. Drenched curtains of flowered cretonne belled out in the draught when the door was opened.
"That's it," cried Mrs. Propper, pointing again. "There's an iron pipe by that winder outside. And Daisy said to me — upstairs we were — up over it — Daisy said to me, 'Auntie, there's somebody tapping on that pipe.' And I said, 'No,' I said, 'there's somebody climbing that pipe.' And we tried to look out of<the winder upstairs, only it wasn't much good, except for hearing somebody raise the winder."