I assented and continued to puff away silently at my pipe. Annie came out with a tray and began to set out the tea things on a little table in the shade of the house. The cathedral chimed the quarter after four, and so hot and still was it that the last fading note left the air pregnant with unvoiced vibrations. The clash of clapper on hot metal in the high cathedral tower—the dull boom of the note—and then the air thick with the ghosts of sound. It came to me that there was some similar quality in the embarrassed silences that seemed to stand out so sharply from all our conversations. The air was full of the thoughts we were all afraid to voice.
“Mr. Jeffcock,” she continued, after a time, “I want you to promise not to be vexed, but I do so long to ask you a question.”
I nodded.
“You are sure you won’t mind—promise?” she repeated, holding up one finger with a coquettish air.
“I promise I won’t show it, anyhow,” I returned.
“Well,” she continued, “you remember—tell me—did you put the key under Kenneth’s pillow?”
I was aghast. There was a little puzzled frown on her face. I looked at her closely, but she gave me look for look. “I did no such thing, what on earth made you think that I did?” I replied, trying to keep my voice pleasant and unconcerned.
“Why, I have been thinking it over, and it simply can’t have been any one else—oh, it is all so thrilling! You remember, just before Dr. Wallace went out to see his patient this morning, I came up from the basement with some things for Ethel, and met you in the hall?”
“Yes, I remember that.”
“Well, you know how the basement stairs go down under the main staircase up from the hall to the first landing? I don’t know if you have noticed how plainly you can hear any one on the stairs just above, but I could swear that as I came up from the kitchen, I heard some one tiptoeing down them over my head. I did really, Mr. Jeffcock. Then I found you in the hall. Wasn’t it queer? Do you really mean to say that it wasn’t you?”