She looked very solemn.
“Shall we say a little bird told me? That is safe isn’t it?”
I longed to say, “It’s damned silly.” I rather wish I had. I should have liked to observe the effect on Miss Wetherby.
“Well, this little bird told that she saw a certain lady, who shall be nameless.”
“Another kind of bird?” I inquired.
To my great surprise Miss Wetherby went off into paroxysms of laughter and tapped me playfully on the arm saying:
“Oh, vicar, you must not be so naughty!”
When she had recovered, she went on.
“A certain lady, and where do you think this certain lady was going? She turned into the Vicarage road, but before she did so, she looked up and down the road in a most peculiar way—to see if anyone she knew were noticing her, I imagine.”
“And the little bird?” I inquired.
“Paying a visit to the fishmonger’s—in the room over the shop.”
I know where maids go on their days out. I know there is one place they never go if they can help—anywhere in the open air.
“And the time,” continued Miss Wetherby, leaning forward mysteriously, “was just before six o’clock.”
“On which day?”
Miss Wetherby gave a little scream.