'
'I have somehow arrived at the suspicion that it is a very narrow
house. Is that true?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Does the clerk ever dine with your master?'
'No, sir. The clerk don't eat in the house at all, sir.'
'Does he go away before breakfast?'
'No, sir.'
'No one takes breakfast to his room?'
'No, sir.'
'What time does he leave the house?'
'At ten o'clock, sir.'
'When is breakfast served?'
'At nine o'clock, sir.'
'At what hour does your master retire to his study?'
'At half-past nine, sir.'
'Locks the door on the inside?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Never rings for anything during the day?'
'Not that I know of, sir.'
'What sort of a man is he?'
Here Podgers was on familiar ground, and he rattled off a description
minute in every particular.
'What I meant was, Podgers, is he silent, or talkative, or does he get
angry? Does he seem furtive, suspicious, anxious, terrorised, calm,
excitable, or what?'
'Well, sir, he is by way of being very quiet, never has much to say
for himself; never saw him angry, or excited.'
'Now, Podgers, you've been at Park Lane for a fortnight or more. You
are a sharp, alert, observant man. What happens there that strikes you
as unusual?'
'Well, I can't exactly say, sir,' replied Podgers, looking rather
helplessly from his chief to myself, and back again.
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