bounder ought to be in jail instead of giving dinner-parties. Imagine
Doris eating in that house!"

"Ay! Sweetbreads an' saddle o' lamb," interjected Hobbs with the air of
one imparting a secret.

Elkin was pallid with wrath. He glared at Hobbs.

"What I had in my mind was the impudence of the blighter," he said
shrilly. "That poor woman's body leaves here to-morrow for some cemetery
in London, and Grant invites folk to a small dinner to-night!"

A sort of awe fell on the company. None of the others had as yet put the
two events in juxtaposition, and they had an ugly sound. Even Mr. Siddle
stifled a protest. Elkin had scored a hit, a palpable hit, and no one
could gainsay him. He felt that, for once, the general opinion was with
him, and drove the point home.

"Hobson--the local joiner and undertaker"--he explained for Mr.
Franklin's benefit--"came this morning to borrow a couple of horses for
the job. It's to be done in style--'no expense spared' was Mr. Ingerman's
order--and the poor thing is in her coffin now while Grant--"

He stopped. Mr. Siddle coughed.

"You've said enough, Elkin," murmured the chemist. "This excitement is
harmful. You really ought to be in bed for the next forty-eight hours,
dieting yourself carefully, and taking Dr. Foxton's mixture regularly. He
has changed it, I noticed."