“Just a spasm, a sharp stitch in my side, like,” answered the poor woman heavily. “It’s over now. Don’t mind me.” “But I don’t believe—no, that I don’t—that there’s anybody in the world who knows who The Avenger is,” went on Chandler quickly. “It stands to reason that anybody’d give him up—in their own interest, if not in anyone else’s. Who’d shelter such a creature? Why, ’twould be dangerous to have him in the house along with one!” “Then it’s your idea that he’s not responsible for the wicked things he does?” Mrs. Bunting raised her head, and looked over at Chandler with eager, anxious eyes. “I’d be sorry to think he wasn’t responsible enough to hang!” said Chandler deliberately. “After all the trouble he’s been giving us, too!” “Hanging’d be too good for that chap,” said Bunting. “Not if he’s not responsible,” said his wife sharply. “I never heard of anything so cruel—that I never did! If the man’s a madman, he ought to be in an asylum—that’s where he ought to be.” “Hark to her now!” Bunting looked at his Ellen with amusement. “Contrary isn’t the word for her! But there, I’ve noticed the last few days that she seemed to be taking that monster’s part. That’s what comes of being a born total abstainer.” Mrs. Bunting had got up from her chair. “What nonsense you do talk!” she said angrily. “Not but what it’s a good thing if these murders have emptied the public-houses of women for a bit. England’s drink is England’s shame—I’ll never depart from that! Now, Daisy, child, get up, do! Put down that paper. We’ve heard quite enough. You can be laying the cloth while I goes down the kitchen.” “Yes, you mustn’t be forgetting the lodger’s supper,” called out Bunting. “Mr. Sleuth don’t always ring—” he turned to Chandler. “For one thing, he’s often out about this time.” “Not often—just now and again, when he wants to buy something,” snapped out Mrs. Bunting. “But I hadn’t forgot his supper. He never do want it before eight o’clock.” “Let me take up the lodger’s supper, Ellen,” Daisy’s eager voice broke in. She had got up in obedience to her stepmother, and was now laying the cloth. “Certainly not! I told you he only wanted me to wait on him. You have your work cut out looking after things down here—that’s where I wants you to help me.” Chandler also got up. Somehow he didn’t like to be doing nothing while Daisy was so busy. “Yes,” he said, looking across at Mrs. Bunting, “I’d forgotten about your lodger. Going on all right, eh?” “Never knew so quiet and well-behaved a gentleman,” said Bunting. “He turned our luck, did Mr. Sleuth.” His wife left the room, and after she had gone Daisy laughed. “You’ll hardly believe it, Mr. Chandler, but I’ve never seen this wonderful lodger. Ellen keeps him to herself, that she does! If I was father I’d be jealous!” Both men laughed. Ellen? No, the idea was too funny. CHAPTER XII.