“Well, she’s mad—stark mad. She’s been bothering me out of my life these two days. I’m sick and tired of talking to her. If she catches me now I’m done.”
“If she’s mad,” said the R. M., “why don’t you have her locked up? I’ll sign the papers for you if you get a medical certificate.”
“She’s not mad in that sort of way,” said Goddard, “although she is mad.”
“I see,” said the R. M.; “temper. It’s not a breach of promise case, is it, Goddard?”
“Nothing of the sort. I never set eyes on her in my life till yesterday. In fact, she’s engaged to quite another man.”
“I see,” said the R. M. doubtfully.
“The fact is,” said Goddard, “she has a theory that there has been a murder over at Clonmore. There hasn’t, of course; but she thinks there has—and—well, the fact is, I promised to investigate it. She cried, you know, and that sort of thing. The whole business is utterly absurd from start to finish.”
“And what do you propose to do now?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps she’ll go away when she gets the message about my being on leave. I shall stay here till after dark, anyhow, and then sneak down to the house and find out what’s happened.”
“I think,” said Captain Fielding, “that I’ll stay with you. I’d rather like to see this business through. Besides, when she finds she can’t get you she’ll probably go up to my house for me.”