human
What's the matter? Davenant asked, too deeply astonished even to take off his hat.
gpt
Is it burglars? Where's the professor?
human
He's gone to bed. It isn't burglars. I wish it was. It's something far, far worse. Collins told Drusilla. Oh, I know it's true--though Rodney wouldn't say so. I simply ... _know_ ... it's ... _true_.
gpt
Oh, it's true, Drusilla corroborated.
human
I knew that the minute Collins began to speak. It explains everything--all the little queernesses I've noticed ever since I came home--and everything.
gpt
What is it? Peter asked again.
human
Who's Collins? And what has he said?
gpt
It isn't a he; it's a she, Drusilla explained.
human
She's my maid. I knew the minute I came into the room that she'd got something on her mind--I knew it by the way she took my wrapper from the wardrobe and laid it on the bed. It was too awful!
gpt
What was too awful? The way she laid your wrapper on the bed?
human
No; what she told me. And I _know_ it's true.
gpt
Well, for the Lord's sake, Drusilla, what is it?
human
; but in that attitude, favorable for confidence, she had asked Collins over her shoulder if anything troubled her, and Collins had told her tale. Briefly, it was to the effect that some of the most distinguished kitchens in Boston and Waverton had been divided into two factions, one pro and the other contra, ever since the day, now three weeks ago, when Miss Maggie Murphy, whose position of honorable service at Lawyer Benn's enabled her to profit by the hints dropped at that eminent man's table, had announced, in the servant's dining-room of Tory Hill itself, that Henry Guion was
gpt
He had stolen Mrs. Clay's money, and Mrs. Rodman's money,