that it was this man's return that had been the fear
constantly haunting young Hepworth. The three raps on the door, it was
urged by the prosecution, was a pre-arranged or pre-understood signal,
and the door had been opened by the woman. Whether the husband was in
the house, or whether they waited for him, could not be said. He had
been killed by a bullet entering through the back of the neck; the man
had evidently come prepared.

Ten days had elapsed between the murder and the finding of the body,
and the man was never traced. A postman had met him coming from the
neighbourhood of Laleham Gardens at about half-past nine. In the fog,
they had all but bumped into one another, and the man had immediately
turned away his face.

About the soft felt hat there was nothing to excite attention, but the
long, stiff, yellow mackintosh was quite unusual. The postman had
caught only a momentary glimpse of the face, but was certain it was
clean shaven. This made a sensation in court for the moment, but only
until the calling of the next witness. The charwoman usually employed
by the Hepworths had not been admitted to the house on the morning of
Mrs. Hepworth's departure. Mrs. Hepworth had met her at the door and
paid her a week's money in lieu of notice, explaining to her that she
would not be wanted any more. Jetson, thinking he might possibly do
better by letting the house furnished, had sent for this woman, and
instructed her to give the place a thorough cleaning. Sweeping the
carpet in the dining-room with a dustpan and brush, she had discovered
a number of short red hairs. The man, before leaving the house, had
shaved himself.

That he had still retained the long, yellow mackintosh may have been
with the idea of starting a false clue. Having served its purpose, it
could be discarded. The beard would not have been so easy. What
roundabout way he may have taken one cannot say, but it must have been
some time during the night or early morning that he reached young
Hepworth's office in Fenchurch Street. Mrs. Hepworth had evidently
provided him with the key.

There he seems to have hidden the hat and mackintosh and to have taken
in exchange some clothes belonging to the murdered man. Hepworth's
clerk, Ellenby, an elderly man--of the type that one generally
describes as of gentlemanly appearance--was accustomed to his master
being away unexpectedly on business, which was that of a ships'
furnisher. He always kep