"I'll swear to it." Dan rose and knocked the ashes out of his pipe. "And I intend to learn how Mrs. Jarsell became possessed of it. I may be on a wild goose chase. All the same, with the stake I have, I can't afford to lose an opportunity."
"So Miss Armour said, when she told your fortune," commented Freddy thoughtfully. "Yes. I wonder what she meant?" Dan stretched himself. "I'm for bed. Ring the bell, and ask Mrs. Pelgrin for the spirits." Laurance, not feeling called upon to resume the conversation, as he was tired himself, did as he was told, and Mrs. Pelgrin, raw-boned and grim, bounced aggressively into the room, to demand fiercely what they required. She sniffed when whiskey was ordered, but as its consumption would increase her bill, she brought in a bottle of "Johnny Walker" and a siphon of soda, without argument. When she turned to depart, and wished them good-night in tones suggestive of a jailer, a sudden thought struck Dan. It would not be amiss, he thought, to question Mrs. Pelgrin concerning the hermit ladies. Not that he expected a great deal to result from his exanimation, as the worthy woman was a she-cat, and what she knew would probably have to be clawed out of her. "We had tea at The Grange to-day, Mrs. Pelgrin," said Dan casually. The landlady wrapped her hands in her apron and wheeled grimly at the door to speak aggressively. "Ho!" she grunted. "What's that?"
"I said 'Ho,' and 'Ho's' all I'm going to say."
"Well," drawled Freddy with a shrug, "you can't say much less, you know."
"Less or much, I don't say anything," retorted Mrs. Pelgrin, screwing up her hard mouth and nodding. "Nobody wants you to say anything," remarked Dan lazily, but on the alert. Of course this speech opened the landlady's mouth. "People say as it's queer two ladies should live like dormice in a haystack," she observed significantly. "That's like people. They will meddle with what doesn't concern them."
"Not me," snorted Mrs. Pelgrin violently and epigrammatically. "I don't say what I could say, for what I could say wouldn't be what's right to say."
"Wouldn't it?" inquired Freddy innocently. "No, it wouldn't, sir; I'm not to be pumped," cried Mrs. Pelgrin, "try you ever so hard. So there!" and she screwed up her mouth tighter than ever. "Who is pumping?" asked Dan coolly; "I simply remarked that we had tea with Mrs. Jarsell and Miss Armour to-day."
"Friends of yours, no doubt?" snapped the landlady. "I never saw them before to-day, Mrs. Pelgrin." "Then don't see them again," advised the woman sharply. "Thank you for that advice. Anything wrong?"
"Wrong! Wrong! What should be wrong?" Mrs. Pelgrin became more violent than ever. "There's nothing wrong."
"Then that's all right," said Halliday coolly. "Goodnight." Mrs. Pelgrin stared hard at him, evidently wondering why he did not press his questions, seeing how significant a remark she had made. The idea that her conversation was trivial in his eyes hurt her self-esteem. She gave another hint that she knew something. "I wonder how those ladies make their money," she observed casually to the ceiling. "Ah, I wonder," agreed Dan, making a covert sign that Freddy should restrain the question now on the tip of his tongue. "Three motor-cars," said Mrs. Pelgrin musingly, "four servants, women all and sluts at that, I do say, with a house like a palace inside, whatever it may be to look at from the road. All that needs money, Mr. Halliday."