Ellis looked at her trim little figure in the black dress, at the widow's cap on the fair hair, at the candid face beneath it. As has been before stated, Mrs. Moxton was comely rather than pretty, but she had a firmly-moulded chin, a resolute expression on her lips and in her grey eyes, and was, on the whole, a woman of courage and resource. How one so sensible could have tied herself to a brute like Moxton, and could have submitted to neglect and cruelty for long months was more than Ellis could understand. Perhaps it was one of those unanswerable problems of the feminine nature which women themselves cannot explain. Ellis was puzzled, and in the hope of gaining some insight into this apparently contradictory nature, waited eagerly for the promised explanation. "On the day after the murder--in the morning, that is," said Mrs. Moxton, "I had a visitor. His card, with the name Richard Busham, was brought to me by a charwoman I engaged, but owing to the events of the previous night I refused to see him. He went away saying he would call again, but up to the present he has not done so." "Who is Richard Busham? Do you know him?" "Not personally. I never saw him, and he has never met me. But he is the cousin of my late husband, the nephew of Moxton of Bond Street. Now, I believe that he came to see me about the will, and I am vexed at not having admitted him." "Why not call on him? Have you his address?" "I heard it from Edgar. Mr. Busham is a solicitor, and has his office in Esher Lane, near the Temple. The late Mr. Moxton, of Bond Street, was a mean, shabby man who employed the cheapest labour he could get, and I believe his nephew did all his legal business for him. Now, Edgar and Mr. Busham hated one another, and when my husband was disinherited Mr. Busham was declared heir by old Moxton. If that will held good he would not waste time coming to see me, but from the very fact of his visit I believe that Edgar's father repented at the last moment, and made a new will, leaving the property to us." "You can make certain of that by seeing Busham." Mrs. Moxton looked troubled. "I am afraid," she said faintly. "I am terribly afraid." "I do not see why you should be." "Mr. Busham called on the morning after the murder; he must have learnt then of my loss. Yet he has never repeated his visit, has never written a line. I can't conceive his reason for acting in this way, unless," here she hesitated, "he believes that I murdered Edgar." "He would not be so foolish as to believe that without evidence, and even if he did, the inquest must have disabused his mind of the idea." "For all that I am afraid to call. I have heard Edgar talk of Mr. Busham; he is a dangerous man, Dr. Ellis, and for all I know may be laying a trap for me." "Tell me the truth and I will prevent your falling into this trap." Mrs. Moxton hesitated, and then burst out defiantly: "What is it you wish to know?"