He goes on quickly: “You were Lucy Warren?”
Now he has corrected himself—so think all those who have not noted that little word “were.”
“Yes, sir, and I——”
“Stop! Allow me to put my question—it will be far quicker in the end. I mean by that, Mrs. Cheale——”
Hullo! Mrs. Cheale? What is happening to Sir Harold—the quick, the bold, the resourceful, the man whose astonishing memory is almost proverbial? Another thing happens which is extraordinarily unusual with him—that is a piece of paper is handed to him by his junior, and from it he reads the following questions, and in each case without waiting for an answer.
“You are the daughter of Mrs. Warren of the Thatched Farm? Your age is now twenty-four? Till ten days ago you were in the employment of Miss Prince at the Thatched Cottage? Before that you were for a considerable time head parlour-maid at the Thatched House?”
He reads over these questions, or rather assertions, very rapidly, and each time the woman witness nods her head.
“And now I ask you to recall what happened nine—or was it ten—days ago?”
Nine or ten days ago? Sir Harold surely means nine months ago?
Again the witness nods, this time eagerly.