“Then he went on to tell me that Ralph and Flora are engaged.”
“I knew that, too,” I interrupted, with modest pride.
“Who told you?”
“Our new neighbour.”
Caroline visibly wavered for a second or two, much as if a roulette ball might coyly hover between two numbers. Then she declined the tempting red herring.
“I told Mr. Ackroyd that Ralph was staying at the Three Boars.”
“Caroline,” I said, “do you never reflect that you might do a lot of harm with this habit of yours of repeating everything indiscriminately?”
“Nonsense,” said my sister. “People ought to know things. I consider it my duty to tell them. Mr. Ackroyd was very grateful to me.”
“Well?” I said, for there was clearly more to come.
“I think he went straight off to the Three Boars, but if so he didn’t find