"Well, really now," replied the doctor, looking painfully confused, "upon my word, I _don’t_ know." "You must go about your business in a very funny way, then," reflected Mrs. West. "It’s bin the talk o’ Limus. ’E done ’em in for eight ’undred quid—’im an’ another man." "Done ’em in!" repeated the doctor. "Who? What?" "The Midland Malt Company, same’s I told you," expounded Mrs. West. "’E was night watchman, Mr. West was—’im an’ another man—an’ they took eight ’undred quid. ’E got away with ’arf of it, too. The perlice ’as bin investigatin’ ever since." Dr. Brink still looked a little puzzled. "You mean, in fact—do I understand that your husband stole eight hundred pounds?" "Mr. West an’ another man—yes," responded the woman, quite without feeling. "’Im an’ ’is mate, they done in eight ’undred. On’y ’is mate, I’m sorry to say, ’e never got ’is share. The perlice got that. They got ’im, too. But they never got Mr. West." "How did he escape?" demanded the doctor. And I held my breath. I wondered that the desperado’s wife could talk so quietly. "How did he escape?" asked the doctor again. "Mr. West?" queried the woman. "Oh," she said, with great simplicity, "’e went away. "It was like this yere," said Mr. West’s wife:— "I was asleep, you see—in this bed yere, an’ it was dark—all in the middle o’ the night, you see. An’ he struck a match an’ he woke me up. "’What’s that?’ I says, with a start like, an’ when I see it was Mr. West I lay down again. "’Ann,’ ’e says, ’wake up. I’ve got some money ’ere,’ ’e says. An’ ’e lights a bit o’ candle, an’ I sits up, an’ there on the table—that very table—there was a ’eap o’ sovereigns what ’e’d rolled out of a sack. ’I’ve took these from the company. I’m goin’ away,’ says Mr. West. "An’ ’e gets into ’is Sunday shoot an’ ’e shaves ’isself. An’ ’e puts a lot o’ the money more’n four ’undred pounds—into a little brown bag, an’ ’e puts the rest in the coal cupboard. ’The perlice ’ll come for that in the mornin’,’ says Mr. West. ’Let ’em find it there. An’ you,’ ’e says, ’you don’t know nothink.’ "’An’ what about you?’ I says. "’I’m goin’ away,’ says Mr. West. ’I’ll write you when it’s safe. Give my love to Rosa.’ "Rosa is my sister’s niece, what ’e’d always carried on with—innocent like, in a jokin’ sort o’ way, if you understand me. "’An’ remember,’ says Mr. West to me again, ’as you don’t know a thing. They’ll find the money in the coal ’ole, so don’t you try to stop ’em.’ "An’ then Mr. West, ’e kissed me same as usual, an’ ’e blowed out the light. An’ ’e went away." * * * * * "I suppose that the police turned up all right?" suggested Dr. Brink, when he had duly considered this simple story.