Chapter Twenty-twoKatharine knocked on the door of Mr. Tattlecombe’s sitting-room. When he had said ‘Come in!’ she found him in his favourite chair with his leg up and a rug over it. He looked up from a large ledger and a litter of papers.
‘Good morning, Mrs. Smith. What is it?’
She said, ‘I wondered if I could talk to you about something.’ She thought he looked surprised, and made haste to say, ‘About William.’
Right on that she was reminded in the most ridiculous way of Red Riding Hood in the nursery tale:
‘What big eyes you’ve got, Grandmamma.’
‘The better to see you with, my dear.’
Mr. Tattlecombe’s eyes were like bright blue saucers. He asked her to sit down, and he asked her if anything was wrong. And out it came,
‘I think someone is trying to kill him.’
Mr. Tattlecombe looke
