othing. You can't
help wondering what causes these fires when they're heavily insured. Eh?
Blazing all night, it was. Twenty-five engines. Twenty-five, mind you!
That shows it was pretty big, eh? I saw the red in the sky, myself.
'Well,' I thought to myself, 'there's somebody stands to lose
something,' I thought. But the insurance companies are too wide to stand
all the risk themselves. They share it out, you know. It's a mere
flea-bite to them. And ... a ... well then there's a ... See, then
there's a bigamy case."

"Hey?" cried Pa sharply, brightening. "What's that about?"

"Nothing much. Only a couple of skivvies. About ten pound three and
fourpence between the pair of them. That was all he got." Pa's interest
visibly faded. He gurgled at his pipe and turned his face towards the
mantelpiece. "And ... a ... let's see, what else is there?" Alf racked
his brains, puffing a little and arching his brows at the two girls, who
seemed both to be listening, Emmy intently, as though she were repeating
his words to herself. He went on: "Tram smash in Newcastle. Car went off
the points. Eleven injured. Nobody killed...."

"I don't call _that_ much," said Jenny, critically, with a pin in her
mouth. "Not much more than I told him an hour ago. He wants a murder, or
a divorce. All these little tin-pot accidents aren't worth printing at
all. What he wants is the cross-examination of the man who found the
bones."

It was comical to notice the change on Alf at Jenny's interruption.
From the painful concentration upon memory which had brought his
eyebrows together there appeared in his expression the most delighted
ease, a sort of archness that made his face look healthy and honest.

"What's that you're doing?" he eagerly inquired, forsaking Pa, and
obviously thankful at having an opportunity to address Jenny directly.
He came over and stood by the table, in spite of the physical effort
which Emmy involuntarily made to will that he should not do so. Emmy's
eyes grew tragic at his intimate, possessive manner in speaking to
Jenny. "I say!" continued Alf, admiringly. "A new hat, is it? Smart!
Looks absolutely A1. Real West End style, isn't it? Going to have some
chiffong?"

"Sit down, Alf." It was Emmy who spoke, motioning him to a chair
opposite to Pa. He took it, his shoulder to Jenny, while Emmy sat by the
table, looking at him, her hands in her lap.

"How is he?" Alf asked, jerking his head at Pa. "Perked up when I said
'bigam