"He had a meeting on Wednesday night at Northallerton. He was going to come straight on and pick me up, and run me down to town to be married by special license. We allowed ample time. George had to be at the office next day."
"I see. Well, I'll go on now, and you stop me if I'm wrong. You went up at 9:30 on Wednesday night. You packed a suit-case. You—did you think of writing any sort of letter to comfort your sorrowing friends and relations?"
"Yes, I wrote one. But I—"
"Of course. Then you went to bed, I fancy, or, at any rate, turned the clothes back and lay down."
"Yes. I lay down. It was a good thing I did, as it happened—"
"True, you wouldn't have had much time to make the bed look probable in the morning, and we should have heard about it. By the way, Parker, when Mary confessed her sins to you last night, did you make any notes?"
"Yes," said Parker, "if you can read my shorthand."
"Quite so," said Peter. "Well, the rumpled bed disposes of your story about never having gone to bed at all, doesn't it?"
"And I thought it was such a good story!"
"Want of practice," replied her brother kindly.