"Yes; sad, wasn't it? But she was eighty-seven. And I am sure, could she have had the choice, she would have preferred a sudden, practically painless death to a long, lingering illness."
"So did you build this aerodrome on purpose to finish her off?" I inquired with interest.
Dimbie smothered a laugh, and the man looked at me thoughtfully, but didn't seem offended.
"Well, no," he replied, "I can hardly say that. I merely meant that it was just a bit of luck for my mother. I hope, by the way, I am not disturbing you."
"Not very much," I answered, before Dimbie could speak.
"That's right. I don't like being de trop, or in the way; get yourself disliked."
There seemed to be nothing to say to this, and Dimbie and I peeped at one another and endeavoured not to laugh.
PROFESSOR LEIGHRAIL