here incognito to avoid publicity.”

 

“Chow,” said Miss Ganett. “Quite wonderful for our little village, I’m sure. By

the way, Clara—my maid, you know—is great friends with Elsie, the housemaid at

Fernly, and what do you think Elsie told her? That there’s been a lot of money

stolen, and it’s her opinion—Elsie’s—I mean, that the parlormaid had something

to do with it. She’s leaving at the month, and she’s crying a good deal at

night. If you ask me, the girl is very likely in league with a _gang_. She’s

always been a queer girl—she’s not friends with any of the girls round here. She

goes off by herself on her days out—very unnatural, I call it, and most

suspicious. I asked her once to come to our Girls’ Friendly Evenings, but she

refused, and then I asked her a few questions about her home and her family—all

that sort of thing, and I’m bound to say I considered her manner most

impertinent. Outwardly very respectful—but she shut me up in the most barefaced

way.”

 

Miss Ganett stopped for breath, and the colonel, who was totally uninterested in

the servant question, remarked that in the Shanghai Club brisk play was the

invariable rule.

 

We had a round of brisk play.

 

“That Miss Russell,” said Caroline. “She came here pretending to consult James

on Friday morning. It’s my opinion she wanted to see where the poisons were

kept. Five Characters.”