“Well, you’re in the case, anyway,” Pepster said tartly. “And that reminds me. I have some news for you. At least, I think I have. But with you one never knows. Quite likely you have it all entered up already. Did you ever hear of Mary Grainger?”
“No, who is she?”
“Thank God, I’ve got a novelty at last. She’s daughter to Grainger, the Midlington chemist. Did you know he had a daughter?”
“No, does she live at home?”
“She doesn’t live anywhere, she’s dead.”
“Yes?”
“Did you know that?”
I shook my head to express a negative.
“Then it really is one to me,” he said, with an air of great satisfaction.
“Yes,” I agreed, “it is one to you if it means anything. I take it there is more behind. The decease of a young lady I never met is hardly a matter for excitement in itself.”