"Take her up for what?" Mr. Brown calmly asked.
"For the killing and slaying of Counsellor Ollivera, he says. But in these things he never was anything but a calf."
Mr. Brown turned into his room, put down his hat and a small paper parcel, and went on to the scene. Before he could say a word, Alletha Rye burst forth like one demented.
"Don't come here Mr. Brown. We've nothing to do with strangers. I can't have all the world looking at me."
Mr. Brown took a quiet survey of matters with perfect self-possession, and then drew Mr. Butterby towards his room, just as though he had possessed the authority of Scotland Yard. Mrs. Jones was left alone with her sister, and caught hold of her two hands.
"Now then! What is the English of this? Had you aught to do with the death of Mr. Ollivera?"
"Never," said Alletha; "I would not have hurt a hair of his head."
Mrs. Jones, at the answer, hardly knew whether to slap the young woman's face or to shriek at her. All this disgrace brought upon her house, and Alletha to submit to it in unrefuting tameness! As a preliminary, she began a torrent of words.
"Hush!" said Alletha. "They think me guilty, and at present they must be let think it. I cannot help myself: if Butterby conveys me to Helstonleigh, he must do it."
Mrs. Jones was nearly staggered out of her passion. The cold water went trickling down again. Not at once could she answer.