“His name is Mills,” Howard supplied.
Mr. Marks brought out his tablet, wetted his purple pencil, and wrote the name as he conceived it.
“Mills—with two hells?”
“Two hells—I mean, l’s! l’s!” Mrs. Witherby was out of patience. “How else on earth would you spell it?”
Howard, with an authoritative gesture, restrained her.
“Two l’s. I can’t tell you anything more about him. He is a complete stranger to Mrs. Mearely and to all of us. I must say, officer, that you have made a lot of trouble for Mrs. Mearely and all of us, by your reckless shooting—firing at a gentleman, who was riding peaceably along the road!”
Mr. Marks looked up from his note book and stared at Howard in stupefaction.
“Wot d’yer say? Gentleman ridin’ peaceable halong the road. Hi likes to know hif you calls that peaceable—a-jumpin’ on my ’ead.”
“Jumping on? What do you mean?”
“Hi mean jumpin’ hon my ’ead—that’s wot Hi mean. Dived hoff the porch railin’ right on to my ’ead! at two-forty-five in the mornin’, too. No wonder Hi takes ’im for a ‘ousebreaker.”