“What if it is?” demanded Mrs. Braxfield. “Do you think I’m going to have my valuable fowls and chickens carried off by foxes? I’m not!—not for all the hunting men in the country! So there! I wish I could shoot every fox that’s running about! As it is, all I’ve done has been to frighten them.” “You can settle your affairs about the foxes with the Master of Foxhounds, Mrs. Braxfield,” said the Chief Constable good-humouredly. “It’s a truly awful crime to shoot a fox, in the opinion of hunting people, but it’s one that doesn’t come within police regulations. But now, Mrs. Braxfield, what did you use in shooting at the foxes? Was it a rifle, or a sporting gun, or a revolver? Or—was it an automatic pistol? Come!” Mrs. Braxfield looked from one face to another. Three pairs of eyes were fixed firmly upon her. “Who’s been telling you all this?” she suddenly exclaimed. “Who’s been——” “It was an automatic pistol, wasn’t it?” persisted the Chief Constable. “Come, now, Mrs. Braxfield, why not answer straight out?” “What if it was?” muttered Mrs. Braxfield. “Then it was! Very well; now then,” continued the Chief Constable, “where did you get it?” Mrs. Braxfield, who until then had been standing by the table in the centre of the room, facing her three visitors, suddenly sat down in the nearest chair, folded her hands on her lap, looked calmly from one to the other. “Look here!” she said quietly, finally fixing her eyes on the Chief Constable. “You no doubt think you’re being very plain, and outspoken, and all that, but if you want any information out of me, you’ll have to be a good deal plainer! And I’ll tell you straight out that you’re not going to get me to incriminate myself! I haven’t said that I had any automatic pistol. You said: ‘Was it an automatic pistol that I used, to scare the foxes?’ I replied: ‘What if it was?’ That isn’t saying that it was, or that I ever had one. I’m willing to give any information that I can, but you’re treating me with suspicion, and I’m not going to be forced into any admission that might be damaging—damaging to me and to others, very likely. You treat me fair, and——” “Mrs. Braxfield,” broke in the Chief Constable, “we’ve no wish for anything else than to treat you fairly. But we know certain things, and we’re bound to ask you for some explanation. Now, as you ask me to be more explicit, I will! I may as well tell you that an automatic pistol has been found.” The Chief Constable stopped suddenly. Mrs. Braxfield, taken unawares, had turned pale to the lips, and her hands tightened. She started palpably. “Found!” she exclaimed.