nd of the table at which they
were seated she stopped and stood with her hands clasped loosely in
front of her, as though waiting to be questioned.

"Please sit down, Miss Rath," said Captain Stanhill politely. "We wish
to ask you a few questions."

The girl seated herself in a chair some distance away from her mother,
and this time she surveyed the men before her with an air of
indifference which was obviously simulated.

But again she quickly dropped her eyes, for Merrington was staring at
her with a look of amazement, as though confronted with a familiar
presence whose identity he could not recall. He glanced from Hazel to
her mother, and his eyes fastened themselves fiercely on the housekeeper
with the satisfaction of a man who had solved an elusive puzzle.

"So we _have_ met before, Mrs. Rath," he said. "You are--"

"No, no! Please keep silent in front of my daughter," broke in the
housekeeper hurriedly.

"I was not mistaken. I remembered this woman's face this morning, but I
could not then recall where I had seen her before," pursued Merrington,
turning to Captain Stanhill and speaking with a sort of reflective
cruelty. "Her daughter's face supplies the clue. She is the image of her
mother as I remember her when she stood her trial at Old Bailey fifteen
years ago. She was tried for--"

"I beg of you not to say it!" Mrs. Rath started from her seat, and
looked wildly around as though seeking some avenue of escape from a
threatened disaster.

"Is it necessary to go into this, Merrington?" asked Captain Stanhill in
his mild tones, glancing from the excited woman to his colleague with
the troubled consciousness that he was assisting in a scene which was
distasteful to him.

"Of course it is necessary if we want to get at the truth of this case,"
retorted Merrington. "You needn't be concerned on Mrs. Rath's account,"
he went on, with a kind of savage, disdainful irony. "A woman who has
been tried as an accessory to murder is not likely to be squeamish. Her
name is not Rath. It is Theberton--Mary Theberton. She and her husband
were tried at Old Bailey fifteen years ago for the murder of a man named
Bridges. The trial made a great stir at the time. It was known as 'The
Death Signal Case'."

Caldew looked at the housekeeper with a new interest. He readily
recalled the notorious case mentioned by Merrington. Theberton was an
Essex miller, who, having discovered that his young wife was in the
habit of signalling