For instance, no more dinners
at The Hollies. No more gadding about by night, if you hear weird noises
on the other side of the river. And you must absolutely deny yourself the
pleasurable excitement of Mr. Grant's company."
"You are carrying a warning to its extreme limit."
"Exactly."
"And am I to keep this knowledge to myself?"
"In whom would you confide?"
"My father, of course."
"I know you better," and the detective's voice took on a profoundly
serious note. "Your father would never admit that what he knows to be
true of bees is equally true of humanity. You can trust the police to
keep a pretty sharp eye on Siddle, of course, but the present is a
strenuous period, both for us and for people with maniacal tendencies, so
accidents may happen."
"You have distressed me immeasurably," said the girl, striving to pierce
the mask of that inscrutable face.
"I meant to," answered Furneaux quietly. "No half measures for me.
I've looked up the asylum record of Mrs. Siddle, senior, and it's not
nice reading."
"There was a Mrs. Siddle, junior, then?"
"A Mrs. Theodore Siddle, if one adopts the conventional usage. Yes. She
died last month.
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