there poured out a cataract of empty brandy bottles. Emptiness: that was the key-note of the whole scene, and blank consternation its effect.
"My brandy!" said Mrs Quantock in a strangled voice. "There are fourteen or fifteen bottles. That accounts for the glazed look in his eyes which you, dear Lucia, thought was concentration. I call it distillation."
"Did he take it from your cellar?" asked Lucia, too shattered to feel resentment, but still capable of intense curiosity.
"No: he had a standing order from me to order any little things he might want from my tradesmen. I wish I had my bills sent in every week."
"Yes, dear," said Lucia.
Georgie's eye sought hers.
"I saw him buy the first bottle," he said. "I remember telling you about it. It was at Rush's."
Peppino gathered up his hammer and chisel. "Well, it's no use sitting here and thinking of old times," he observed. "I shall ring up the police-station and put the whole matter into their hands, as far as I am concerned. They'll soon lay hands on him, and he can do his postures in prison for the next few years."
"But we don't know that it was he who committed all these burglaries yet," said Lucia.
No one felt it was worth answering this, for the others had all tried and convicted him already.
"I shall do the same," said Georgie.
"My tankard," said Mrs Quantock.
Lucia got up.
"Peppino mio," she said, "and you, Georgie, and you, Daisy, I want you before you do anything
