"Who did the marketing?"
"Morton."
"Morton again! Why, the old man seems to be becoming a factotum in his declining years—he whose duties have always been so few, so simple! I am provoked, for some reasons, that he should have been sent away to-day. Fortunately, I bolted the pantry-door myself, before I came to bed last night," I murmured, "and the front door is self-fastening. The house was well secured, at least, by night."
"How long did Morton remain absent?" I asked, recommencing my system of cross-questions, very abruptly.
"About an hour, I believe; but what makes you so particular, all at once, Miss Miriam?"
"Some day you shall know, perhaps. In the mean while tell me, has Mr. Bainrothe been here to-day?"
"He called about one o'clock, but, as all were poorly, went away again without entering the house at all. I saw him go down-street, after dinner, in his phaeton, with another gentleman, and have not heard wheels since."
"You are sure he was not here, this morning—while—while Morton was absent?"
"Quite sure; he breakfasted later than usual, I think, for I saw him throw open his side bedroom window at nine o'clock, and he was in his shirt-sleeves then. He sleeps in a large room in the ell, you know. I was standing at the pantry-door, and saw him distinctly, and he nodded to me, and called something, but I could not hear what it was at that distance."
"Where was Charity at that time, Mrs. Austin?"