"The McGowans—on Selkirk Avenue."

   "No-o, I don't think I do. I know the Prices on Selkirk

   Avenue. Of course you know them."

   "The Prices? No, I don't believe I do—I don't think I
ever heard of the Prices. You don't mean the Pearsons?
I know them very well."

   "No, I don't know the Pearsons. The Prices live just near
the reservoir."

   "No, then I'm sure I don't know them. The Pearsons live
close to the college."

   "Close to the College? Is it near the William Kennedys?"

   "I don't think I know the William Kennedys."

   This is the way the conversation goes on for ten minutes.

   Both Mr. Sedley and Miss Smiles are getting desperate.

   Their faces are fixed. Their sentences are reduced to—

   "Do you know the Petersons?"

   "No. Do you know the Appleby's?"

   "No. Do you know the Willie Johnsons?"

   "No."

   Then at last comes a rift in the clouds. One of them
happens to mention Beverley Dixon. The other is able to
cry exultingly—

   "Beverley Dixon? Oh, yes, rather. At least, I don't KNOW

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