We all looked at Ethel and Margaret, and they at each other. Neither of them spoke and then they both began to speak at once. “You did, I thi——”
Finally, though neither of them seemed very certain about it, it was agreed that probably Ethel had ironed that particular pair, though she denied most emphatically having either brought the odd sock up-stairs, or put it away. The Tundish agreed that she had not brought it up with her from the basement by accident, when he called for her to help him with the boy, and both Annie and cook on being called and questioned asserted that they had neither of them touched it. At length Allport gave up in disgust his attempt to locate it, and picking up the heap of clothes, threw them angrily into one of the armchairs that stood at the side of the fireplace.
Having done so, he seemed to make a new start, and turned to me. “Now I want you to tell me honestly, Mr. Jeffcock, weren’t you just a little surprised when the doctor told you what he had done? Didn’t you think it rather peculiar that a man of his age and position should play tricks of that description?”
I had to confess that I had.
“And what made you add what you did to the notice—‘Dark deeds are done at night’?”
“I don’t know why I made the addition.”
“But it seems to me such a peculiar thing that you should have picked on those words. Did you know then that the bedrooms had been upset?”
“No.”
“Did you know that Miss Palfreeman was dead when you made the addition?”
“No, we none of us knew till breakfast time this morning.”