"No," said Mr. Sleuth. "No, I thank you. I will at once proceed upstairs and see what damage has been done. When I require you I shall ring."
He shuffled past her, and five minutes later the drawing-room bell did ring.
At once, from the door, Mrs. Bunting saw that the chiffonnier was wide open, and that the shelves were empty save for the bottle of red ink which had turned over and now lay in a red pool of its own making on the lower shelf.
"I’m afraid it will have stained the wood, Mrs. Bunting. Perhaps I was ill-advised to keep my ink in there."
"Oh, no, sir! That doesn’t matter at all. Only a drop or two fell out on to the carpet, and they don’t show, as you see, sir, for it’s a dark corner. Shall I take the bottle away? I may as well."
Mr. Sleuth hesitated. "No," he said, after a long pause, "I think not, Mrs. Bunting. For the very little I require it the ink remaining in the bottle will do quite well, especially if I add a little water, or better still, a little tea, to what already remains in the bottle. I only require it to mark up passages which happen to be of peculiar interest in my Concordance—a work, Mrs. Bunting, which I should have taken great pleasure in compiling myself had not this—ah—this gentleman called Cruden, been before."
| · | · | · | · | · | · | · |
Not only Bunting, but Daisy also, thought Ellen far pleasanter in her manner than usual that evening. She listened to all they had to say about their interesting
