heers with defiant challenges. The police
had now almost more than they could do to prevent a furious collision
between the two bodies; but their numbers kept increasing, as
detachments arrived one after another, and at length the house itself
was firmly guarded, whilst the rioters on both sides were being put to
flight. It was not a long street; the police cleared it completely and
allowed no one to enter at either end.

It was all but dark when at length the door of Emma's room was opened
and six or seven women appeared, searching for Mutimer. The landlady was
foremost; she carried a lamp. It showed the dead man at full length on
the floor, and Emma kneeling beside him, holding his hand. Near her
were the two children, crying miserably. Emma appeared to have lost her
voice; when the light flashed upon her eyes she covered them with one
hand, with the other pointed downwards. The women broke into cries
of fright and lamentation. They clustered around the prostrate form,
examined it, demanded explanations. One at length sped down to the
street and shortly returned with two policemen. A messenger was
despatched for a doctor.

Emma did not move; she was not weeping, but paid no attention to any
words addressed to her. The room was thronged with curious neighbours,
there was a hubbub of talk. When at length the medical man arrived, he
cleared the chamber of all except Emma. After a brief examination of the
body he said to her:

'You are his wife?'

She, still kneeling, looked up into his face with pained astonishment.

'His wife? Oh no! I am a stranger.'

The doctor showed surprise.

'He was killed in your presence?'

'He is dead--really dead?' she asked under her breath. And, as she
spoke, she laid her hand upon his arm.

'He must have been killed instantaneously. Did the stone fall in the
room? Was it a stone?'

No one had searched for the missile. The doctor discovered it not far
away. Whilst he was weighing it in his hand there came a knock at the
door. It was Mr. Westlake who entered. He came and looked at the dead
man, then, introducing himself, spoke a few words with the doctor.
Assured that there was no shadow of hope, he withdrew, having looked
closely at Emma, who now stood a little apart, her hands held together
before her.

The doctor departed a few moments later. He had examined the wound on
the girl's face, and found that it was not serious. As he was going,
Emma said to him:

'Will you tell