"What can't be true? Who's a pack of fools?"
"All Speckport! Do you mean to say they've really gone and taken up Charley Marsh?"
"Oh, is that it?" said Mr. Blake, returning to his toilet. "They haven't taken him up that I know of. What brings you home? I thought you weren't coming until Saturday."
"And do you mean to say you thought I could stop one moment after I heard that poor old thing was dead, and Charley Marsh taken up for it. If you can be unfeeling and cold-blooded," said Miss Jo, turning from deep pink to brightest scarlet, "I can't."
"My dear Jo, don't make such a howling! Charley Marsh isn't taken up, I tell you."
"But he's suspected, isn't he? Doesn't all Speckport point at him as the murderer? Isn't he held to appear at the inquest? Tell me that."
"Yes," said Mr. Blake, looking critically at his cravat, "he is. Is that collar straight, Jo?"
Miss Jo's only answer was a withering look.
"And he can talk of collars at such a time! And he pretended he used to be a friend of that poor boy!"
"Don't be a fool, Jo," said Val, testily. "What can I do? I don't accuse him!"