"
"Can you name them?"
"Well, Tomlin wants a wife."
Winter laughed joyously.
"Next?" he cried.
"They say that Mr. Siddle is a widower."
"The chemist? Foreman of the jury?"
"Yes, sir."
"From appearances, he is a likelier candidate than either Elkin or
Tomlin. Anybody else?"
"I shouldn't be far wrong if I gave you the name of most among the young
unmarried men in the parish."
"Dear me! I must have a peep at this charmer. But I want those names,
Robinson."
Winter produced a note-book, so he was evidently taking the matter
seriously. The policeman, however, was flustered. His thoughts ran on
Elkin, whereas this masterful person from London insisted on discussing
Doris Martin.
"My difficulty is, sir, that she has never kep' company with any of
'em," he said.
"Never mind. Give me the name of every man who, no matter what his
position or prospects, might be irritated, if no more, if he knew that
Miss Martin and Mr. Grant were presumably spooning in a garden at a
rather late hour."
It was a totally new line of inquiry for Robinson, but he bent his wits
to it, and evolved a list which, if published, would certainly be
regarded with incredulous envy by every other girl in the village than
the postmaster's daughter; as for Doris herself, she would be mightily
surprised when she saw it, but whether annoyed or secretly gratified none
but a pretty girl of nineteen can tell.
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