She hadn't quite the effrontery to say that. She told me that
Mr. Meldon, this parson of yours who takes you out yachting, had given
orders before I came that all my food was to be soaked with paraffin
oil."
"Oh! But that's too absurd."
"So you'd think. So I thought at the moment. I didn't believe her. I
thought that she was putting up an unusual line of defence to excuse
her own gross carelessness. But I was evidently wrong. The girl seems
to have been telling the truth. I think I mentioned to you the state
in which I found my bed last night."
"You said it was damp."
"Damp! I never said damp. Soaking is the word I used; or at all
events ought to have used. It was soaking with Condy's Fluid, as it
turned out, though I didn't know at the time what the stuff was. I had
an interview with the hotelkeeper himself, a ruffian of the name of
Doyle, about that. I had very nearly to break the bell before I could
get any one to come to me. It's a very odd thing, but he told me
practically the same story; said that this man Meldon, whoever he is,
had given orders to have Condy's Fluid poured all over my bed and
chloride of lime shovelled on to the floor.
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