aces o' that sort?"

But Daisy went on, and to her stepmother's shrinking ear there
seemed a horrible thrill of delight; of gloating pleasure, in her
fresh young voice.

"Hark to this," she said:

"A man who had committed a murder in a lonely wood near Blackburn
was traced by the help of a bloodhound, and thanks to the sagacious
instincts of the animal, the miscreant was finally convicted and
hanged."

"La, now! Who'd ever have thought of such a thing?" Bunting
exclaimed, in admiration. "The newspapers do have some useful
hints in sometimes, Joe."

But young Chandler shook his head. "Bloodhounds ain't no use," he
said; "no use at all! If the Yard was to listen to all the
suggestions that the last few days have brought in--well, all I
can say is our work would be cut out for us--not but what it's
cut out for us now, if it comes to that!" He sighed ruefully. He
was beginning to feel very tired; if only he could stay in this
pleasant, cosy room listening to Daisy Bunting reading on and on
for ever, instead of having to go out, as he would presently have
to do, into the cold and foggy night!

Joe Chandler was fast becoming very sick of his new job. There
was a lot of unpleasantness attached to the business, too. Why,
even in the house where he lived, and in the little cook-shop where
he habitually took his meals, the people round him had taken to
taunt him with the remissness of the police. More than that one of
his pals, a man he'd always looked up to, because the young fellow
had the gift of the gab, had actually been among those who had
spoken at the big demonstration in Victoria Park, making a violent
speech, not only against the Commissioner of the Metropolitan
Police, but also against the Home Secretary.

But Daisy, like most people who believe themselves blessed with the
possession of an accomplishment, had no mind to leave off reading
just yet.

"Here's another notion!" she exclaimed. "Another letter, father!"

"PARDON TO ACCOMPLICES.

"DEAR Sir--During the last day or two several of the more
Intelligent of my acquaintances have suggested that The Avenger,
whoever he may be, must be known to a certain number of persons.
It is impossible that the perpetrator of such deeds, however
nomad he may be in his habits--"

"Now I wonder what 'nomad' can be?" Daisy interrupted herself, and
looked round at her little audience.

"I've always declared the fellow had all his senses about him,"
observed Bunti