"And ... hello, hello! No electricity used in here, either. I suppose that's because your father doesn't approve?"
"Yes. Ross wired the room—or had it wired with the aid of an electrician—and then installed the light. But Father was so angry that he would rarely ever use it. Sticks to the musty old lamp over there, for most things."
"And is the room still wired?"
"Yes. There's a wall plug over there by the door. Why, Mr. Deland?"
"Oh, nothing. Then that would account for this fragment of flexible wire, wouldn't it? H'm. Yes. I see. I see."
But what he saw he did not at that moment mention, and Miss Duggan had to guess at his meaning.
"But it was done ten days ago— I must really speak to the servants and tell them to keep the place cleaner than they do. Fancy leaving odd pieces about like that!" she ejaculated, sensitive to any suggestion of poor management upon the part of Castle authorities. But Cleek did not hear. He was standing over by the wall-plug, looking down at it, and then kneeling, began to examine it minutely. She watched him in amazement, unused to his methods.
"Why, Mr. Deland—"
"Oh, just looking at how your brother does his work. Quite a good workman, isn't he?" said Cleek, rising slowly to his feet, and pocketing the bit of flexible wire forthwith.
And that was the last word she could get out of him upon the subject.