still, tuneless voice made the words into a command. Canon Livingstone arose and followed her into the little dining-room. “Will you tell me all you know—all you have heard about my—you know what?”
“Miss Monro was my informant—at least at first—it was in The Times the day before I left. Miss Monro says it could only have been done in a moment of anger if the old servant is really guilty; that he was as steady and good a man as she ever knew, and she seems to have a strong feeling against Mr. Dunster, as always giving your father much unnecessary trouble; in fact, she hints that his disappearance at the time was supposed to be the cause of a considerable loss of property to Mr. Wilkins.”
“No!” said Ellinor, eagerly, feeling that some justice ought to be done to the dead man; and then she stopped short, fearful of saying anything that should betray her full knowledge. “I mean this,” she went on; “Mr. Dunster was a very disagreeable man personally—and papa—we none of us liked him; but he was quite honest—please remember that.”
The canon bowed, and said a few acquiescing words. He waited for her to speak again.
“Miss Monro says she is going to see Dixon in”
