"Now, now!" said H.M. austerely. "None o' that!"
"Well, it'd be interesting to know," Sharpless pointed out, with a broad and open grin. "But never mind. Go on, sir. Dish us out the dirt."
"So our good, harmless Hubert took up with Polly Allen. Whether or not because she reminded him of the girl who wasn't having any, I'll leave you to decide. I think t don't have to emphasize that. But now, my fatheads, I'd like to call your attention to an interestin' parallel. Has any of you ever heard of the Sandyford Place mystery?"
"Hoots!" cried Dr. Nithsdale, with rich scorn. "Whu doesna ken it?"
"I don't, for one," said Sharpless.
The little doctor glared at him. H.M. silenced them both.
"You'll find it in the Notable British Trials series. It happened at Glasgow in the early 'sixties. In Sandyford Place, off Sauchiehall Street—"
"Saw-ee-all Street," corrected Dr. Nithsdale sternly. "Mon, ye're pronunciation of Eenglish wad mak' an Eskimo shuver in a hot-hoose."
"All right. Saw-ee-all Street," said H.M., accepting the correction but unable to manage the proper gulp between the first two syllables. "One night when all the family were away from home except a servant girl named Jessie McPherson and a sanctimonious, holy old gent named James Fleming, the servant girl was murdered. Very nastily, with a chopper.
"I'm not goin' to argue the evidence, which is debated yet. A woman named McLachlan was eventually arrested, and gentle James Fleming released as the Crown's chief witness. At the trial, the judge referred to him as a 'dear old gentleman,' which same term has been applied to Hubert Fane.