Vance lifted his eyebrows languidly.
“I say, Hemming, what unrighteousness has Miss Sibella been up to now?”
“The usual thing.” The woman spoke with relish. “She’s nothing but a hussy, if you ask me. Her carryings-on with this Doctor Von Blon have been scandalous. They’re together, as thick as thieves, at all hours.” She nodded her head significantly. “He came here again last night and went to her room. There’s no telling what time he left.”
“Fancy that, now. And how do you happen to know about it?”
“Didn’t I let him in?”
“Oh, you did?—What time was this? And where was Sproot?”
“Mr. Sproot was eating his dinner, and I’d gone to the front door to take a look at the weather when the doctor walks up. ‘Howdy-do, Hemming?’ he says with his oily smile. And he brushes past me, nervous-like, and goes straight to Miss Sibella’s room.”
“Perhaps Miss Sibella was indisposed, and sent for him,” suggested Vance indifferently.
“Huh!” Hemming tossed her head contemptuously, and strode from the room.
Vance rose at once and rang again for Sproot.