(Tuesday, November 9; 3 p. m.)
"The Mater's a crabbed old soul," Greene apologized offhandedly when we were again in the drawing-room. "Always grousing about her doting offspring.—Well, where do we go from here?"
Markham seemed lost in thought, and it was Vance who answered.
"Let us take a peep at the servants and hearken to their tale: Sproot for a starter."
Markham roused himself and nodded, and Greene rose and pulled a silken bell-cord near the archway. A minute later the butler appeared and stood at obsequious attention just inside the room. Markham had appeared somewhat at sea and even uninterested during the investigation, and Vance assumed command.
"Sit down, Sproot, and tell us as briefly as possible just what occurred last night."
Sproot came forward slowly, his eyes on the floor, but remained standing before the centre-table.
"I was reading Martial, sir, in my room," he began, lifting his gaze submissively, "when I thought I heard a muffled shot. I wasn't quite sure, for the automobiles in the street back-fire quite loud at times; but at last I said to myself I'd better investigate. I was in negligé, if you understand what I mean, sir; so I slipped on my bath-robe and came
