“What d’ye say to that?” demanded Mr. Bragg.
“I’ll say nothing till you see fit to do so!” said Keene significantly.
“Good for you!” nodded the constable approvingly. “Now, let’s return by the front door.[{47}]”
“Wait a moment, constable,” said Sheridan Keene. “I’d like a little more light on this affair, if you don’t mind. Who discovered the crime?”
Mr. Bragg demurred for a moment, but visions of an appointment under Chief Watts led him to respond to the request. He had lost sight of the provisions under which the promise of influence had been made.
“The housekeeper, Mrs. Haynie,” he replied.
“At what hour; do you know?”
“Nigh half past eight.”
“Did she give the alarm?”
“She ran to one of the neighbors, a piece up the road, here, scared half out of her wits. One of ’em came down here at once, and one went to tell Thorpe at the turnpike tavern, half a mile away. Dick mounted his horse and struck around to my house to notify me, in which he showed his good sense; and we came up here together. Then he sent the telegram to Mr. French, and word to Mabel Jeffrey.”