“Yes, that’s the man.”
“Then he can’t be at the Buttery. Jim brought home the evening paper from Liddleshorn. There is a portrait of the murderer and his victims—before they went into the copper—poor things. He was arrested. He committed suicide in his cell.”
The sweet, spiteful expression stole across Aunt Sophy’s face as she glanced at Maria, who only said tartly:
“He wasn’t the only criminal in the country, after all. Read the papers regularly, both of you, and see how many crimes there are which are never fastened on to the right person.”
“I rather thought,” said Annie placidly, “that Pamela would come up to tea. I told her that I was going to short-coat baby to-day.”
“Rather funny about her brother, wasn’t it?”
Maria had a faculty for starting aggressive subjects.
Aunt Sophy put on her best dignity air—the air she adopted toward people who only kept one servant, who hadn’t a “conveyance,” who didn’t get invited to the Vicarage.
“I used to think that he was courting Nancy,” Maria continued, unabashed.
“My dear! What an extraordinary notion! Isn’t darling Maria’s brain original, Annie? Nancy is almost engaged to Mr. Minns, the Liddleshorn curate. He is an extremely intellectual young man. Naturally he was drawn to Nancy, whose tastes are so literary.”