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Updated: June 15, 2025
"It was that little beast, Jane Pittaway. She heard us talking in the drawing-room." "Oh, that was it, was it?" he said more gently. Then, scowling again, he cried fiercely: "I'll wring her neck!" "That's enough of that!" she said sharply. "You've talked a lot too much about wringing people's necks. And a lot of good it's done you." "Oh, I know you believe I did it, just like everybody else.
"Saw 'oo?" said John Pittaway. Then the whole story he had told Mr. Flexen burst forth from William Roper's overcharged bosom, the story with the embellishments natural to the lapse of time since its first telling.
"Oh, thank you, sir," said Mrs. Pittaway, bustling back to the bar. Erebus and Wiggins dashed lightly up the stairs after the Terror. In less than two minutes the deft hands of the Twins had dealt with the bed; and their intelligent eyes were eagerly scanning the hapless unprotected bedroom. Erebus sprang to the shaving-brush on the mantelpiece and thrust it under the mattress.
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