and something had got to be done. So
Simon Stagers and I talked it over. The end of it was, he took worse of
a sudden, and got so he didn't know nothing. Then I rushed for a doctor.
He said it was a perforation, and there ought to have been a doctor when
he was first took sick.

"Well, the man died, and as I kept about the house, my wife had
no chance to talk. The doctor fussed a bit, but at last he gave a
certificate. I thought we were done with it. But my wife she writes
a note and gives it to a boy in the alley to put in the post. We
suspicioned her, and Stagers was on the watch. After the boy got away a
bit, Simon bribed him with a quarter to give him the note, which wasn't
no less than a request to the coroner to come to the house to-morrow and
make an examination, as foul play was suspected--and poison."

When the man quit talking he glared at me. I sat still. I was cold all
over. I was afraid to go on, and afraid to go back, besides which, I did
not doubt that there was a good deal of money in the case.

"Of course," said I, "it's nonsense; only I suppose you don't want the
officers about, and a fuss, and that sort of thing."

"Exactly," said my friend. "It's all bosh about poison. You're the
coroner. You take this note and come to my house. Says you: 'Mrs. File,
are you the woman that wrote this note? Because in that case I must
examine the body.'"

"I see," said I; "she needn't know who I am, or anything else; but if I
tell her it's all right, do you think she won't want to know why there
isn't a jury, and so on?"

"Bless you," said the man, "the girl isn't over seventeen, and doesn't
know no more than a baby. As we live up-town miles away, she won't know
anything about you."

"I'll do it," said I, suddenly, for, as I saw, it involved no sort of
risk; "but I must have three hundred dollars."

"And fifty," added the wolf, "if you do it well."

Then I knew it was serious.

With this the man buttoned about him a shaggy gray overcoat, and took
his leave without a single word in addition.

A minute later he came back and said: "Stagers is in this business, and
I was to remind you of Lou Wilson,--I forgot that,--the woman that died
last year. That's all." Then he went away, leaving me in a cold sweat. I
knew now I had no choice. I understood why I had been selected.

For the first time in my life, that night I couldn't sleep. I thought
to myself, at last, that I would get up early, pack a few clothes,