“For some of us—yes.” A curious sympathy informed Vance’s words as he gazed at this strange tragic creature before us. “Tell me,” he went on quickly, in an altered tone; “do you know who the Bishop is?”
“The Bishop?” She frowned perplexedly. “No, I don’t know him. Is that another child’s game?”
“Something of that kind, I imagine. At any rate, the Bishop is interested in Cock Robin and Johnny Sprig. In fact, he may be the person who is making up these fantastic games. And we’re looking for him, Mrs. Drukker. We hope to learn the truth from him.”
The woman shook her head vaguely. “I don’t know him.” Then she glared vindictively at Markham. “But it’s not going to do you any good to try to find out who killed Cock Robin and shot Johnny Sprig through the middle of his wig. You’ll never learn—never—never. . . .” Her voice had risen excitedly, and a fit of trembling seized her.
At this moment Belle Dillard re-entered the room, and going quickly to Mrs. Drukker put her arm about her.
“Come,” she said soothingly; “we’ll have a long drive in the country, Lady Mae.” Reproachfully she turned to Markham, and said coldly: “Uncle wishes you to come to the library.” With that she led Mrs. Drukker from the room and down the hall.
“Now that’s a queer one, sir,” commented Heath, who had stood looking on with bewildered amazement. “She had the dope on this Johnny-Sprig stuff all the time!”
Vance nodded.
“And our appearance here frightened her. Still, her mind is morbid and sensitive, Sergeant; and dwelling as she does constantly on her son’s deformity and the early days when he was like other children, it’s quite possible she merely hit accidentally upon the Mother-Goose significance of Robin’s and Sprigg’s death. . . . I wonder.” He looked toward Markham. “There are strange undercurrents in this case—incredible and terrifying implications. It’s like being lost in the Dovrë-Troll caverns of Ibsen’s ‘Peer Gynt,’ where only monstrosities and abnormalities exist.” He shrugged his shoulders, though I knew he had not wholly escaped the pall of horror cast on us by Mrs. Drukker’s words. “Perhaps we can find a little solid footing with Professor Dillard.”
The professor received us without enthusiasm and with but scant cordiality. His desk was littered with papers, and it was obvious that we had disturbed him in the midst of his labors.