t an overcoat and a bag ready packed in the
office. Missing them, Ellenby had assumed that his master had been
called away by an early train. He would have been worried after a few
days, but that he had received a telegram--as he then supposed from his
master--explaining that young Hepworth had gone to Ireland and would be
away for some days. It was nothing unusual for Hepworth to be absent,
superintending the furnishing of a ship, for a fortnight at a time, and
nothing had transpired in the office necessitating special
instructions. The telegram had been handed in at Charing Cross, but
the time chosen had been a busy period of the day, and no one had any
recollection of the sender. Hepworth's clerk unhesitatingly identified
the body as that of his employer, for whom it was evident that he had
entertained a feeling of affection. About Mrs. Hepworth he said as
little as he could. While she was awaiting her trial it had been
necessary for him to see her once or twice with reference to the
business. Previous to this, he knew nothing about her.

The woman's own attitude throughout the trial had been quite
unexplainable. Beyond agreeing to a formal plea of "Not guilty," she
had made no attempt to defend herself. What little assistance her
solicitors had obtained had been given them, not by the woman herself,
but by Hepworth's clerk, more for the sake of his dead master than out
of any sympathy towards the wife. She herself appeared utterly
indifferent. Only once had she been betrayed into a momentary emotion.
It was when her solicitors were urging her almost angrily to give them
some particulars upon a point they thought might be helpful to her case.

"He's dead!" she had cried out almost with a note of exultation. "Dead!
Dead! What else matters?"

The next moment she had apologised for her outburst.

"Nothing can do any good," she had said. "Let the thing take its
course."

It was the astounding callousness of the woman that told against her
both with the judge and the jury. That shaving in the dining-room, the
murdered man's body not yet cold! It must have been done with
Hepworth's safety-razor. She must have brought it down to him, found
him a looking-glass, brought him soap and water and a towel, afterwards
removing all traces. Except those few red hairs that had clung,
unnoticed, to the carpet. That nest of flat-irons used to weight the
body! It must have been she who had thought of them. The ide