story was going to be a long one that would take half an hour to get
through. But it collapsed. Like that guard-tent."

"About that tent business," said Kennedy. "Of course that was all rot
what I was saying just now. I suddenly remembered that I didn't
particularly want anybody but you to hear what I was going to say, so
I had to invent any rot that I could think of."

"But now," said Jimmy Silver, sinking his voice to a melodramatic
whisper, "the villagers have left us to continue their revels on the
green, our wicked uncle has gone to London, his sinister retainer,
Jasper Murgleshaw, is washing his hands in the scullery sink,
and--_we are alone!_"

"Don't be an ass," pleaded Kennedy.

"Tell me your dreadful tale. Conceal nothing. Spare me not. In fact,
say on."

"I've had a talk with the chap who was sentry that night," began
Kennedy.

"Astounding revelations by our special correspondent," murmured
Silver.

"You might listen."

"I _am_ listening. Why don't you begin? All this hesitation
strikes me as suspicious. Get on with your shady story."