“Ah, facts! Now, er-er-my dear neighbor, just what do you mean by facts?” asked the Major, making a great effort to appear unconcerned.
“Well, she spoke kind of familiarly of Paris and her accent sounded like our teacher’s used to—not at all like pupils. I always have my doubts about anybody who has too good an accent in French. I think she felt I was suspicious of her because she shut up all of a sudden. Please tell me, Major Simpson, have you also some suspicion concerning our lodger?”
CHAPTER VI
TOO MANY DETECTIVES
Major Simpson looked at his hostess with blinking eyes. Although he had spoken scornfully of cheap magazine fiction that had no doubt put melodramatic notions in Josie’s head, the truth of the matter was that the old gentleman devoured them himself in private, especially the ones dealing with crime and clever sleuths. How often in these stories unsuspecting women, landladies and lodging house keepers, were unconscious means of tracking desperate criminals. The detective came to a sudden conclusion. He determined to take into his confidence this gentle lady from his own county. Anyone who had such a light hand at doughnuts and could brew such clear rich coffee must have finesse. She was the one of all others to help him in his business of determining a difficult point in his profession. He leaned forward and grasping the widow’s plump hand, patted it tenderly.
“Mrs. Leslie—Miss Polly—er-er-Polly, little Polly Bainbridge, I wonder if you will help an old neighbor and friend in a most important matter.”
“Help you, Major Simpson! How can a woman like me serve such a gentleman as you?”
“Know then, my dear Mrs. Les—I mean Polly—I may call you Polly I hope—”
“Certainly, Major Simpson!”
“Well then, my dear Polly, you have under your roof a character that is under suspicion. I serve at Burnett & Burnett’s in a confidential capacity as their trusted private detective.”