Grant shouted, but the words flipped feebly away into the blackness and were lost. "What?" bawled Wimsey in his ear. He shouted again, and this time the word "juice" shot into sound and fluttered away. But whether the news was good or bad Lord Peter could not tell.
Mr. Murbles was aroused a little after midnight by a thunderous knocking upon his door. Thrusting his head out of the window in some alarm, he saw the porter with his lantern steaming through the rain, and behind him a shapeless figure which for the moment Mr. Murbles could not make out.
"What's the matter?" said the solicitor.
"Young lady askin' urgently for you, sir."
The shapeless figure looked up, and he caught the spangle of gold hair in the lantern-light under the little tight hat.
"Mr. Murbles, please come. Bunter rang me up. There's a woman come to give evidence. Bunter doesn't like to leave her—she's frightened—but he says it's frightfully important, and Bunter's always right, you know."
"Did he mention the name?"
"A Mrs. Grimethorpe."
"God bless me! Just a moment, my dear young lady, and I will let you in."