“There’s a detective inspector inside. Like a bull in a china-shop.”
“Had some,” said Mr. Donald Gordon. “Come on, doctor. Hand it out.”
“Well, let’s see the flowers,” Reggie said, and walked him into the garden and began to tell him all that he knew.
“So he’s pinched Miss Weston, has he?” the little Jew lisped. “He’s a hustler.”
“Oh, I expect he’s arrested Ford too, by now. Me and you in a minute. He’s a zealous fellow. By the way, Gordon, who is Ford?”
“Yes. He’s a dark horse, ain’t he? I only met him once, doctor. You could see poor old Birdie was sweet on him.”
“Oh, so Miss Weston was telling the truth about that.”
“Why, didn’t you believe her, doctor?”
“D’you know, I wonder if I believe anything I’ve heard in this house.”
“Like that, is it?” Gordon lisped.