Mr. Higgleton thought for a while but to no purpose.
Mr. Campion expressed his thanks and made an attempt to leave, but he was not to get away so easily.
“I don’t like to pretend I know what happened because I don’t,” said his new friend, skilfully edging between him and the exit. “But then funny things do happen. There was a man in that house over there—you can see it if you stand on the step—who ran off with every servant-girl his wife had in the course of twelve years. Every single one of them!”
This time the expression of wonder was a little overdone.
“She fetched him back one week and off he’d go with the new girl the next.”
“What happened in the end?” said Mr. Campion, interested in spite of himself.
“Cut his throat on a golf-course in Scotland,” said Mr. Higgleton. “And then t
