“He did,” answered Fledgeby. “The assassin. Lammle. He rubbed it into my mouth and up my nose and down my throat⁠—Ow! Ow! Ow! Ah⁠—h⁠—h⁠—h! Ugh!⁠—to prevent my crying out, and then cruelly assaulted me.”

“With this?” asked Miss Jenny, showing the pieces of cane.

“That’s the weapon,” said Fledgeby, eyeing it with the air of an acquaintance. “He broke it over me. Oh I smart so! How did you come by it?”

“When he ran downstairs and joined the lady he had left in the hall with his hat”⁠—Miss Jenny began.

“Oh!” groaned Mr. Fledgeby, writhing, “she was holding his hat, was she? I might have known she was in it.”