“Certainly it is true. Dear me, did you suppose me to be so heartless as to drag you out at this hour on a fool’s errand? Are you in favour of adding the juice of one or of two lemons?”
Mr Philips, whose eyes had been critically observing Sir Richard’s proceedings, said, without thinking: “One! One is enough!”
“I feel sure you are right,” said Sir Richard.
“You know, sir, I must ask you some questions about this extraordinary affair!” said Philips, recollecting his errand.
“So you shall, sir, so you shall. Would you like to ask them now, or after you have disposed of the body?”
“I shall first repair to the scene of the murder,” declared Philips.
“Good!” said Sir Richard. “I will engage to have the punch ready against your return.”
Mr Philips felt that this casual way of treating the affair was quite out of order, but the prospect of returning to a bowl of hot rum punch was so agreeable that he decided to overlook any trifling irregularity. When he returned to the inn, half an hour later, he was feeling chilled, for it was now past midnight and he had not taken his overcoat with him. Sir Richard had caused a fire to be kindled in the wainscoted parlour, and from the bowl on the table, which he was stirring with a long-handled spoon, there arose a very fragrant and comforting aroma. Mr Philips rubbed his hands together, and could not refrain from ejaculating: “Ha!”
Sir Richard looked up, and smiled. His smile had won more hearts than Mr Philips’, and it had a visible effect on that gentleman.
“Well, well, well! I won’t deny that’s a very welcome smell, Sir Richard! A fire, too! Upon my word, I’m glad to see it! Gets chilly at night, very chilly! A bad business, sir! a very bad business!”