“Yes, sir.”
“And eyes that probe your soul?” asked Bobbie.
Again the detective considered.
“Well, she ain’t done any probing as far as I’m concerned,” he confessed, “but there’s something about them that’s—well, peculiar.”
“And the sweetest voice in the world?”
Here again Mr. Superbus was handicapped by a lack of experience. Voices were just voices to him.
“I’ve never heard her singing,” he confessed, “or talking much. She swears a bit at Uncle Isaac, which in my opinion isn’t ladylike. Nor smoking, for the matter of that. The way some of these ladies smoke is very sad. Smoking stunts the growth—which a doctor told me, and what a doctor don’t know ain’t worth knowing.”
“Where—where is Uncle Isaac?”
The reply came like a thunderclap.