when he came back I heard him wheezing. But
what he brought back was not the stick of wood. It was the knife I
use for cutting bread. It had been on a shelf in the room where I had
slept the night before, and now Peter brought it out of the flood
where its wooden handle had kept it afloat. The blade was broken off
short.

It is not unusual to find one's household goods floating around during
flood-time. More than once I've lost a chair or two, and seen it after
the water had gone down, new scrubbed and painted, in Molly Maguire's
kitchen next door. And perhaps now and then a bit of luck would come
to me--a dog kennel or a chicken-house, or a kitchen table, or even,
as happened once, a month-old baby in a wooden cradle, that lodged
against my back fence, and had come forty miles, as it turned out,
with no worse mishap than a cold in its head.

But the knife was different. I had put it on the mantel over the stove
I was using up-stairs the night before, and hadn't touched it since.
As I sat staring at it, Terry took it from Peter and handed it to me.

"Better give me a penny, Mrs. Pitman," he said in his impudent Irish
way. "I hate to give you a knife. It may cut our friendship."

I reached over to hit him a clout on the head, but I did not. The
sunlight was coming in through the window at the top of the stairs,
and shining on the rope that was tied to the banister. The end of the
rope was covered with stains, brown, with a glint of red in them.

I got up shivering. "You can get the meat at the butcher's, Terry," I
said, "and come back for me in a half-hour." Then I turned and went
up-stairs, weak in the knees, to put on my hat and coat. I had made up
my mind that there had been murder done.

CHAPTER III

I looked at my clock as I went down-stairs. It was just twelve-thirty.
I thought of telephoning for Mr. Reynolds to meet me, but it was his
lunch hour, and besides I was afraid to telephone from the house while
Mr. Ladley was in it.

Peter had been whining again. When I came down the stairs he had
stopped whimpering and was wagging his tail. A strange boat had put
into the hallway and was coming back.

"Now, old boy!" somebody was saying from the boat. "Steady, old chap!
I've got something for you."

A little man, elderly and alert, was standing up in the boat, poling
it along with an oar. Peter gave vent to joyful yelps. The elderly
gentleman brought his boat to a stop at the foot of the stairs, and