"Well, then, during the hours of darkness," said Prudence, impatiently, "on that night, or morning, if you like, Mrs. Dumps was taken ill, and Sarah was awakened to attend to her. Sal volatile was needed, so Sarah put on her things, and went out to the chemist."
"I don't believe it; the chemist would not attend to anyone at that hour. By the way, what do you say the hour was?"
"Two o'clock," said Prudence, softly. "And then the chemist is a relative of Mrs. Dumps, Clarice, and would probably give Sarah what she wanted."
"Sal volatile. Humph!" said Clarice, inelegantly. "Well?"
"Sarah said that she went along quietly, and passed your house----"
"She would have to if she came up the lane to go to the High Street," remarked Clarice, trying mentally to follow the wanderings of Butterfly, so as to be certain of the truth of her evidence.
"It was a moonlight night, and Sarah kept in the shadow on the other side of the lane, so that no one should see her going out so late."
"Why should she have done that? Did she expect to meet anyone?"
"She said something about the chances of meeting a policeman," was Prudence's reply. "Do let me get on with the story, Clarice, or I'll never get it finished."
"I am all attention."