“Well, sir, Mr. Parrish had mentioned it to me ...”
“When?”
The question came out like a pistol shot.
“Yesterday, sir,” answered the butler blandly. “Just before luncheon, it was, sir. Mr. Parrish told me to have that chimdy seen to at once. And I telephoned for the sweep immediately after luncheon, sir ...”
“Did Mr. Parrish say anything else, Bude?”
Robin eagerly scanned the butler’s fat, unimpressive countenance. Bude, his tray held out stiffly in front of him, contracted his bushy eyebrows in thought.
“I don’t know as he did, sir ...”
“Think, man, think!” Robin urged.
“Well, sir,” said Bude, unmoved, “I believe, now I come to think of it, that Mr. Parrish did say something about the wind blowing his papers about ...”
“That is to say, he had been working with the window open?”