It was Mrs. Dick. Miss Blow’s last words had been too much for her. She was uttering a series of wild shrieks. Mrs. Sanders was sobbing convulsively on the sofa.
“We’ll have to go into another room,” said Lord Manton, “to hear the evidence.”
“No,” said Miss Farquharson. “Now we are here we’ll stay here. I am anxious to hear what this lady has to say.”
“But,” said Lord Manton, “we can’t possibly hear anything while——”
Miss Farquharson approached Mrs. Dick, grasped her two hands, and spoke sternly to her. She repeated the treatment with her niece. It was most efficacious. Both the younger ladies seemed to be afraid of Miss Farquharson. They had a cowed, terrified look when she left them; but they had stopped making a noise.
“Thank you,” said Lord Manton. “Now, Miss Blow.”
“I begin,” said Miss Blow, “with the two latest cases. These gentlemen, Members of Parliament, as I understand, set out on their bicycles, to ride to Pool-a-donagh. They did not arrive there. They were seen in safety three miles out of Clonmore by a man who was carting turf.”
“How do you know that?” said Mr. Goddard.
“The hotel-keeper told me,” said Miss Blow.
“Oh, Jimmy O’Loughlin! I see. I wouldn’t take every word he says for gospel if I were you, Miss Blow.”