"You can depend on me, sir."

Siddle hastened back to his shop. The telegraphist looked after him.

"Queer!" he mused. "Miss Doris guessed him at once. Phi-ew, I must be
careful! This village contains surprises."

Doris, watching from an upper room, saw the visitor, and timed him. She
imagined he had dispatched an answer. Being a woman, she sought
enlightenment a few minutes later.

"Mr. Siddle came in," she said tentatively.

"Yes," said the specialist, smiling. "And I agree with you, Miss Martin.
We mustn't talk about telegrams, even among ourselves, unless it is
necessary departmentally."

Doris was silenced, but she read the riddle correctly. The chemist was
particularly anxious that no Steynholme resident should be made aware of
his mother's death. She wondered why.

She was enlightened when Furneaux paid a call about tea-time. She took
him into the garden. The lawn at The Hollies was empty.

"Well, you entertained an acquaintance yesterday?" he began.

"Yes. Am I to tell you what happened?"

"Not a great deal, I imagine," he said, with a puzzling laugh.