'
Slivers got weary of hearing about Pierre, and plunged right off
into the object of his visit.
'That Vandeloup,' he began.
'Well?' said Miss Twexby, letting the work fall on her lap.
'What time did he come home the night he stopped here?'
'Twelve o'clock.'
'Get along with you,' said Slivers, in disgust, 'you mean three
o'clock.'
'No, I don't,' retorted Martha, indignantly; 'you'll be telling me I
don't know the time next.'
'Did he go out again?
'No, he went to bed.'
This quite upset Slivers' idea--as if Vandeloup had gone to bed at
twelve, he certainly could not have murdered Villiers nearly a mile
away at two o'clock in the morning. Slivers was puzzled, and then
the light broke on him--perhaps it was the dumb man.
'Did the other stay here all night also?'
Miss Twexby nodded. 'Both in the same room,' she answered.
'What time did the dumb chap come in?'
'Half-past nine.'
Here was another facer for Slivers--as it could not have been
Pierre.
'Did he go to bed?'
'Straight.'
'And did not leave the house again?'
'Of course not,' retorted Miss Twexby, impatiently; 'do you think
I'm a fool--no one goes either in or out of this house without my
knowing it. The dumb devil went to bed at half-past nine, and Mr
Vandeloup at half-past twelve, and they neither of them came out of
their rooms till next morning.
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