Part 35: Penelope hands over her house keys…

Penelope hands over the keys to her house.

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As soon as she had read the newspaper, Penelope visited Mr Styles at his place of work. Penelope’s face drooped with the sorrow of the disgrace. Mr Styles received her.

Penelope staggered into the room, groaning: “I have learned in the newspaper of the terrible news about my sister. I have come—”

“We hope it’s just a case of temporary amnesia,” said Mr Styles. “We’re sure she’ll turn up all right.” He didn’t invite her to sit.

“I wish I could believe it. But as I have told you, Olive is an evil woman. She drinks and play-acts and makes a God of stylish clothes—”

“Good Lord, that’s no reason for jumping to the conclusion she’s an embezzler!”

“I pray you may be correct. But meanwhile, I yearn to offer you any help I can. I shall make it my sole duty to bring my sister to justice if it proves she is guilty.”

“Good of you,” mumbled Styles. He gave a noisy sniff, swallowed hard, thrust his chair a foot farther away from his desk, and said disagreeably: “Actually, we were thinking of searching your house. You hire the one next door to Olive, in number three Flintstone Terrace.”
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“Yes. And of course I shall be glad to have you search every inch. Or anything else I can do. I feel I share fully with my twin sister in this unspeakable sin. I’ll hand over the keys to my house to you at once.” She produced a key ring, with a mixture of rusty, old-fashioned door keys and shiny new keys, and held it out.
 
To be continued… 
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