"I won't find her down here at all events."
"Oh! Then she's still at Ventnor?"
"No! She and Miss Marson have gone home."
"Really! And where is home?"
"My dear Fanks, your cross-examination is most trying."
"I beg your pardon," said Octavius, ceremoniously, "I was not aware I had asked an impertinent question."
"Nor have you, my dear fellow," cried Axton, cordially. "Don't mind my bad temper, I can't help it. My nerves are all unstrung with this horrible business of the inquest. There's no reason why I should not tell you where Miss Varlins lives."
"Oh, never mind," said Fanks, a trifle coldly; "I don't want to know."
"Don't get offended at nothing, Octavius," replied Roger, in an injured tone; "I will tell you if it's only to make amends for my rudeness. Miss Varlins lives at Ironfields."
The detective jumped to his feet with a sudden ejaculation, at which Axton also arose, looking pale and alarmed.