“Of course,” she went on, “poor Dick Symmington hasn’t the least idea of all this! He’s still completely knocked out by Mona Symmington’s death. But you know what men are! If the girl is always there, making him comfortable, looking after him, being obviously devoted to the children—well, he gets to be dependent on her.”

I said quietly:

“So you do think that Elsie Holland is a designing hussy?”

Aimée Griffith flushed.

“Not at all. I’m sorry for the girl—with people saying nasty things! That’s why I more or less told Megan that she ought to go home. It looks better than having Dick Symmington and the girl alone in the house.”

I began to understand things.

Aimée Griffith gave her jolly laugh.

“You’re shocked, Mr. Burton, at hearing what our gossiping little town thinks. I can tell you this—they always think the worst!”

She laughed and nodded and strode away.

III

I came upon Mr. Pye by the church. He was talking to Emily Barton, who looked pink and excited.

Mr. Pye greeted me with every evidence of delight.

“Ah, Burton, good morning, good morning! How is your charming sister?”

I told him that Joanna was well.

“But not joining our village parliament? We’re all agog over the news. Murder! Real Sunday newspaper murder in our midst! Not the most interesting of crimes, I fear. Somewhat sordid. The brutal murder of a little serving maid. No finer points about the crime, but still undeniably, news.”

Miss Barton said tremulously:

“It is shocking—quite shocking.”

Mr. Pye turned to her.

“But you enjoy it, dear lady, you enjoy it. Confess it now. You disapprove, you deplore, but there is the thrill. I insist, there is the thrill!”

“Such a nice girl,” said Emily Barton. “She came to me from St. Clotilde’s Home. Quite a raw girl. But most teachable. She turned into such a nice little maid. Partridge was very pleased with her.”

I said quickly:

“She was coming to tea with Partridge yesterday afternoon.” I turned to Pye. “I expect Aimée Griffith told you.”

My tone was quite casual. Pye responded apparently quite unsuspiciously: “She did mention it, yes. She said, I remember, that it was something quite new for servants to ring up on their employers’ telephones.”

“Partridge would never dream of doing such a thing,” said Miss Emily, “and I am really surprised at Agnes doing so.”

“You are behind the times, dear lady,” said Mr. Pye. “My two terrors use the telephone constantly and smoked all over the house until I objected. But one daren’t say too much. Prescott is a divine cook, though temperamental, and Mrs. Prescott is an admirable house-parlourmaid.”

“Yes, indeed, we all think you’re very lucky.”

I intervened, since I did not want the conversation to become purely domestic.

“The news of the murder has got round very quickly,” I said.