“Good morning, Mrs. Braxfield,” said the Chief Constable. Then, remembering that Mrs. Braxfield had come there against her will, he added politely, “Will you have a cab to drive home in? I’ll order one at once.” “Thank you; I can order cabs for myself, and pay for them, too,” said Mrs. Braxfield as she sailed out. “I want no favours!” The Chief Constable sighed when Mrs. Braxfield had gone. “I daresay that’s the real truth, at least, about the automatic pistol,” he remarked. “Why couldn’t Harry Markenmore tell us!” “I don’t suppose that he knew that she threw it away,” answered Blick. He was walking up and down the room, evidently restless and dissatisfied; finally, he brought up at a window overlooking the street. “Here’s Harry Markenmore himself, with Chilford,” he exclaimed suddenly. “He must have ridden in as soon as he left us in the park. They’ve met Mrs. Braxfield now, and she’s giving them the benefit of her tongue, I think!” “Let her!” said the Chief Constable. “I’m sick of her!” “I’m not satisfied about her and Harry Markenmore and that pistol,” observed Blick. “After all, we’ve only got her word for what she alleges, and we haven’t got his at all. If he gave her the pistol for the very innocent reason she spoke of—to keep in the house as a means of protection—why couldn’t he say so, straight out, without all that mystery and losing his temper into the bargain? Not very satisfactory!” “I suppose he was angry because Mrs. Braxfield is his mother-in-law, and he’d have to tell his wife of what we appeared to suspect,” remarked the Chief Constable. “Not a very nice situation for a young woman who’s come into a family under odd circumstances. I don’t think I should have liked it had I been Harry Markenmore, to have to go and say to my young wife, ‘Look here! the police have collared your mother on suspicion of murdering my brother!’ Would you? So I can excuse his temper.” Blick made no reply. He continued staring out of the window in silence, for some time. Suddenly he spoke. “Chilford’s coming across here,” he said. “Those two have been jawing at him no end!” Chilford came in presently, and shook his head at the two men, with mock reproof. “I say—I say!” he said. “Rather high-handed proceedings, eh—to collar Mrs. Braxfield like that, after trying to get her to incriminate herself? Come—come! You don’t really mean to tell me, either of you, that you think it at all likely that Mrs. Braxfield would be such a fool as to murder a man to whom she’d just become related by marriage—a Markenmore, too! Really, I’m surprised——” “Look you here, Chilford!” interrupted the Chief Constable, getting a little red about the ears, “you can be as surprised as you like! Mrs. Braxfield has only herself to blame, and she’s only gone out of here on sufferance. Let her be thankful if we don’t fetch her back—and keep her!” Chilford pulled himself together, staring.