Ch. 5: The White Groom - Page 2

me: 'Can a sane man be an accessory after the fact in a murder committed by an insane woman?'

So far as I know, there is no monograph on this subject, or certainly I would have consulted it for the purpose of this Christmas Annual.

All these questions swept like lightning through my brain, as I knelt by Philippa's bedside, and awaited her first word.

'Bon jour, Philippine,' I said.

'Basil,' she replied, 'where am I?'

'Under my roof--your brother's roof,' I said.

'Brother! oh, stow that bosh!' she said, turning languidly away.

There could not be a doubt of it, Philippa was herself again!

I rose pensively, and wandered out towards the stables.

Covered with white snow over a white macintosh, I met by the coach-house door William, the Sphynx.

The White Groom!

Twiddling a small object, a door-key of peculiar make, in his hand, he grinned stolidly at me.

'She's a rum un, squire, your sister, she be,' chuckled the Sphynx.

'William,' I said, 'go to Roding, and bring back two nurses, even if they have to hire twenty drags to draw them here. And, William, bring some drugs in the drags.'

By setting him on this expedition I got rid of the Sphynx. Was he a witness? He was certainly acquainted with the nature of an oath!