With her customary tact, Mrs. Mozeen expressed her gratitude silently, by a look—and left the room.
“Why couldn’t you tell that woman to send the servants, without mentioning her legacy?” Rothsay asked. “My friend Lepel, you have done a very foolish thing.”
“In what way?”
“You have given Mrs. Mozeen an interest in your death.”
It was impossible to make a serious reply to this ridiculous exhibition of Rothsay’s prejudice against poor Mrs. Mozeen.
“When am I to be murdered?” I asked. “And how is it to be done? Poison?”
“I’m not joking,” Rothsay answered. “You are infatuated about your housekeeper. When you spoke of her legacy, did you notice her eyes.”
“Yes.”
“Did nothing strike you?”
“It struck me that they were unusually well preserved eyes for a woman of her age.”