The inspector made more particular inquiries as to Mr. Foster, and after some little reluctance Mrs. Beckle gave her opinion that he was very short of money indeed. He had lost his ship sometime back through a neglect of duty, and he was not of altogether sober habits; he had consequently been unable to get another berth as yet. It was a fact, she admitted, that he owed her a considerable sum for rent, but he had enough clothes and nautical implements in his boxes to cover that and more. Hewitt had been watching Mrs. Beckle’s face very closely, and now suddenly asked, with pointed emphasis, “How long have you known Mr. Pullin?” Mrs. Beckle faltered, and returned Hewitt’s steadfast gaze with a quick glance of suspicion. “Oh,” she said, “I have known him, on and off, for a long time.” “A connection by marriage, of course?” Hewitt’s hard gaze was still upon her. Mrs. Beckle looked from him to the inspector and back again, and the corners of her mouth twitched. Then she sat down and rested her head on her hand. “Well, I suppose I must say it, though I’ve kept it to myself till now,” she said resignedly. “He’s my brother-in-law.” “Of course, as you have been told, you are not obliged to say anything now; but the more information you can give the better chance there may be of detecting your brother-in-law’s murderer.” “Well, I don’t mind, I’m sure. It was a bad day when he married my sister. He killed her--not at once, so that he might have been hung for it, but by a course of regular brutality and starvation. I hated the man!” she said, with a quick access of passion, which however she suppressed at once. “And yet you let him stay in your house?” “Oh, I don’t know. I was afraid of him; and he used to come just when he pleased, and practically take possession of the house. I couldn’t keep him away; and he drove away my other lodgers.” She suddenly fired up again. “Wasn’t that enough to make anybody desperate? Can you wonder at anything?” She quieted again by a quick effort, and Hewitt and the inspector exchanged glances. “Let me see, he was captain of the sailing ship _Egret,_ wasn’t he?” Hewitt asked. “Lost in the Pacific a year or more ago?” “Yes.” “If I remember the story of the loss aright, he and one native hand--a Kanaka boy--were the only survivors?” “Yes, they were the only two. He was the only one that came back to England.” “Just so. And there _were_ rumours, I believe, that after all he wasn’t altogether a loser by that wreck? Mind, I only say there were rumours; there may have been nothing in them.” “Yes,” Mrs. Beckle replied, “I know all about that. They said the ship had been cast away purposely, for the sake of the insurance. But there was no truth in that, else why did the underwriters pay? And besides, from what I know privately, it couldn’t have been. Abel Pullin was a reckless scoundrel enough, I know, but he would have taken good care to be paid well for any villainy of that sort.”