Rochester."
"I am," affirmed Kent, as Mrs. Sylvester paused.
"I am too, sir," she confided to him. "Cause you see I was in the
court room when Mr. Turnbull died and I'm naturally interested."
"Naturally," agreed Kent with a commiserating glance at his clerk;
the latter's wife threatened to be loquacious, and he judged from
her looks that it was a habit which had grown with the years. As a
general rule he abhorred talkative women, but - "And what took you
to the police court on Tuesday morning?"
"Why, me and Mr. Sylvester have our little differences like other
married couples," she explained. "And sometimes we ask the Court
to settle them." She caught Kent's look of impatience and hurried
her speech. "The burglar case came on just after ours was remanded,
and seeing the McIntyre twins, whom I've often read about, I just
thought I'd stay. Let me have that paper a minute."
"Certainly," Kent gave her the newspaper and she ran her finger down
the columns devoted to the Turnbull case with a slowness that set his
already excited nerves on edge.
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