"Most certainly," he replied.
"I chanced to be driving through the wood yesterday when the body was discovered near the Indian Mound, and am told that I shall be wanted as a witness. I do not understand why."
"Possibly a mere form, which is nevertheless essential."
"I had engaged to go out with a yachting party," she went on, "and before I withdraw from the excursion I wish to be sure that I shall really be required. My name is Mrs. Jamieson, and"
"Then I can assure you, Mrs. Jamieson, that you are, or will be wanted, at least. My friend has sent a summons to a Mrs. Jamieson of the Glenville House."
"That is myself," the lady said, and turned to go. "Of course then I must be at hand."
She nodded slightly and went away, going with a less appearance of haste down the street and so from his sight.
When she was no longer visible the detective resumed his seat, and relighted his cigar, making, as he did so, this very unprofessional comment—
"I hate to lose sight of a pretty woman, until I am sure of the colour of her eyes."
And yet Francis Ferrars had never been called, in any sense, a "ladies' man."
