can cook them downstairs if
you like."

"No," she said obstinately. "I'd rather do my own work. You just
bring them up here--that'll be all right. To-morrow morning we'll
have Daisy to help see to things."

"Come over here and sit down comfortable in my chair," he suggested
kindly. "You never do take any bit of rest, Ellen. I never see'd
such a woman!"

And again she got up and meekly obeyed him, walking across the room
with languid steps.

He watched her, anxiously, uncomfortably.

She took up the newspaper he had just laid down, and Bunting took
two steps towards her.

"I'll show you the most interesting bit" he said eagerly. "It's
the piece headed, 'Our Special Investigator.' You see, they've
started a special investigator of their own, and he's got hold of
a lot of little facts the police seem to have overlooked. The man
who writes all that--I mean the Special Investigator--was a
famous 'tec in his time, and he's just come back out of his
retirement o' purpose to do this bit of work for the paper. You
read what he says--I shouldn't be a bit surprised if he ends by
getting that reward! One can see he just loves the work of
tracking people down."

"There's nothing to be proud of in such a job," said his wife
listlessly.

"He'll have something to be proud of if he catches The Avenger!"
cried Bunting. He was too keen about this affair to be put off
by Ellen's contradictory remarks. "You just notice that bit about
the rubber soles. Now, no one's thought o' that. I'll just tell
Chandler--he don't seem to me to be half awake, that young man
don't."

"He's quite wide awake enough without you saying things to him!
How about those eggs, Bunting? I feel quite ready for my breakfast
even if you don't--"

Mrs. Bunting now spoke in what her husband sometimes secretly
described to himself as "Ellen's snarling voice."

He turned away and left the room, feeling oddly troubled. There
was something queer about her, and he couldn't make it out. He
didn't mind it when she spoke sharply and nastily to him. He was
used to that. But now she was so up and down; so different from
what she used to be! In old days she had always been the same, but
now a man never knew where to have her.

And as he went downstairs he pondered uneasily over his wife's
changed ways and manner.

Take the question of his easy chair. A very small matter, no doubt,
but he had never known Ellen sit in that chair--no, not even once,
for a minute,