He played a
burlesque of Svengali. I was Trilby, and caught a horrid cold from
walking about without shoes or stockings."
"Don't tell me any more," was Furneaux's surprising comment. "I'll do the
rest. But let me remark, Miss Martin, that I experienced great
difficulty, not so long ago, in persuading friend Grant that you were the
only important witness this case has provided thus far. Playing in a
burlesque, were you? We've been similarly engaged to-night. The farce
must stop now. It makes way for grim tragedy. Not one word of to-night's
events to anyone, please.... Are you ready?"
Doris stood up. Hart thrust the negro's head at the detective.
"Fouche," he said, "do you honestly mean slinging your hook without
making any inquiry as to Owd Ben?"
"Oh, the ghost!" said Doris eagerly. "The Bateses would think of him, of
course. An old farmer named Ben Robson used to live in this house about
the time of Napoleon. He was suspected by the authorities to be an agent
of the smugglers, and the story goes that his own daughter quarreled with
him and betrayed him. He narrowly escaped hanging, owing to his age, I
believe, and was sentenced to a long term of imprisonment.
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