while he
told her of the extraordinary excitement reigning everywhere. And
then, after he had been talking a long while, she suddenly shot a
strange look at him.

"I suppose you went to see the place?" she said.

And guiltily he acknowledged that he had done so.

"Well?"

"Well, there wasn't anything much to see--not now. But, oh, Ellen,
the daring of him! Why, Ellen, if the poor soul had had time to cry
out--which they don't believe she had--it's impossible someone
wouldn't 'a heard her. They say that if he goes on doing it like
that--in the afternoon, like--he never will be caught. He must
have just got mixed up with all the other people within ten seconds
of what he'd done!"

During the afternoon Bunting bought papers recklessly--in fact, he
must have spent the best part of six-pence. But in spite of all the
supposed and suggested clues, there was nothing--nothing at all new
to read, less, in fact than ever before.

The police, it was clear, were quite at a loss, and Mrs. Bunting
began to feel curiously better, less tired, less ill, less--less
terrified than she had felt through the morning.

And then something happened which broke with dramatic suddenness the
quietude of the day.

They had had their tea, and Bunting was reading the last of the
papers he had run out to buy, when suddenly there came a loud,
thundering, double knock at the door.

Mrs. Bunting looked up, startled. "Why, whoever can that be?" she
said.

But as Bunting got up she added quickly, "You just sit down again.
I'll go myself. Sounds like someone after lodgings. I'll soon send
them to the right-about!"

And then she left the room, but not before there had come another
loud double knock.

Mrs. Bunting opened the front door. In a moment she saw that the
person who stood there was a stranger to her. He was a big, dark
man, with fierce, black moustaches. And somehow--she could not
have told you why--he suggested a policeman to Mrs. Bunting's mind.

This notion of hers was confirmed by the very first words he uttered.
For, "I'm here to execute a warrant!" he exclaimed in a theatrical,
hollow tone.

With a weak cry of protest Mrs. Bunting suddenly threw out her arms
as if to bar the way; she turned deadly white--but then, in an
instant the supposed stranger's laugh rang out, with loud, jovial,
familiar sound!

"There now, Mrs. Bunting! I never thought I'd take you in as well
as all that!"

It was Joe Chandler--Joe Chandler dre