plainingly, "and that
black wig--why, 'twas too ridic'lous--that's what I call it!"

"Not to anyone who didn't know Joe," she said sharply.

"Well, I don't know. He didn't look like a real man--nohow. If
he's a wise lad, he won't let our Daisy ever see him looking like
that!" and Bunting laughed, a comfortable laugh.

He had thought a good deal about Daisy and young Chandler the last
two days, and, on the whole, he was well pleased. It was a dull,
unnatural life the girl was leading with Old Aunt. And Joe was
earning good money. They wouldn't have long to wait, these two
young people, as a beau and his girl often have to wait, as he,
Bunting, and Daisy's mother had had to do, for ever so long before
they could be married. No, there was no reason why they shouldn't
be spliced quite soon--if so the fancy took them. And Bunting
had very little doubt that so the fancy would take Joe, at any rate.

But there was plenty of time. Daisy wouldn't be eighteen till the
week after next. They might wait till she was twenty. By that
time Old Aunt might be dead, and Daisy might have come into quite
a tidy little bit of money.

"What are you smiling at?" said his wife sharply.

And he shook himself. "I--smiling? At nothing that I knows of."
Then he waited a moment. "Well, if you will know, Ellen, I was
just thinking of Daisy and that young chap Joe Chandler. He is
gone on her, ain't he?"

"Gone?" And then Mrs. Bunting laughed, a queer, odd, not unkindly
laugh. "Gone, Bunting?" she repeated. "Why, he's out o' sight
--right, out of sight!"

Then hesitatingly, and looking narrowly at her husband, she went on,
twisting a bit of her black apron with her fingers as she spoke:--
"I suppose he'll be going over this afternoon to fetch her? Or--or
d'you think he'll have to be at that inquest, Bunting?"

"Inquest? What inquest?" He looked at her puzzled.

"Why, the inquest on them bodies found in the passage near by King's
Cross."

"Oh, no; he'd have no call to be at the inquest. For the matter o'
that, I know he's going over to fetch Daisy. He said so last night
--just when you went up to the lodger."

"That's just as well." Mrs. Bunting spoke with considerable
satisfaction. "Otherwise I suppose you'd ha' had to go. I wouldn't
like the house left--not with us out of it. Mr. Sleuth would be
upset if there came a ring at the door."

"Oh, I won't leave the house, don't you be afraid, Ellen--not while
you're out."

"Not even if