She pointed a finger at me. "I know where those policemen are. They're in
the garden digging for the body."
"What body?" I gasped.
"Why, EINSTEIN'S, of course," said Miss Brown. "Edward murdered him last
night for his theory. Didn't you suspect?"
I confessed that I had not.
"Oh, yes," she said; "smothered him with a pen-wiper. I saw him do it, but
I said nothing for Angela's sake, she's so refined."
She darted from me into the drawing-room. I followed and found her standing
before the fireplace waving the candle wildly in one hand, a poker in the
other and sniffing loudly.
"We must save Edward," she said; "we must find the body and hide it before
they can bring in a writ of _Habeas Corpus_. It is here. I can smell blood.
Look under the sofa."
She made a flourish at me with her weapon and I at once dived under the
sofa. I am a brave man, but I know better than to withstand people in Miss
Brown's state of mind.
"Is it there?" she inquired.
"No."
"Then search under the carpet--quickly!"
She swung the poker round her head and I searched quickly under the carpet.
During the next hour, at the dictates of her and her poker, I burrowed
under a score of carpets, swarmed numerous book-cases, explored a host of
cupboards, dived under a multitude of furniture and even climbed into the
open chimney-place of the study, because Miss Brown's nose imagined it
smelt roasting flesh up there.
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