“I beg your pardon, Loudon,” began Jim at last, “but why in snakes did you burn her?”
“It was an idea of Nares’s,” said I.
“This is certainly the strangest circumstance of all,” observed Mamie.
“I must say, Loudon, it does seem kind of unexpected,” added Jim. “It seems kind of crazy even. What did you—what did Nares expect to gain by burning her?”
“I don’t know; it didn’t seem to matter; we had got all there was to get,” said I.
“That’s the very point,” cried Jim. “It was quite plain you hadn’t.”
“What made you so sure?” asked Mamie.
“How can I tell you?” I cried. “We had been all through her. We were sure; that’s all that I can say.”
“I begin to think you were,” she returned, with a significant emphasis.
Jim hurriedly intervened. “What I don’t quite make out, Loudon, is, that you don’t seem to appreciate the peculiarities of the thing,” said he. “It doesn’t seem to have struck you same as it does me.”