“Poor Uncle!” she said; “I’d rather not have had the money when it means his death, of course. But I just can’t help being excited. Look here, you children! You’ve both got to dine with me to-night—at the ‘Petit Cygne.’ I’ll stand treat.” “Squanderer!” derided Maude. “Beware, Mr. Grayson! She’ll throw your money about like ducks and drakes. I don’t think I’ll come, Winnie.” “Why not, old thing?” “You two irresponsible young persons having entered upon the broad downward path that leadeth into the narrow straights of matrimony with insufficient income will do all the talking to one another—and it will be appalling to listen unto. That’s why.” “I’ll promise to address quite a lot of remarks to you,” said Grayson. “Yes, I know—‘Don’t you think Winnie looks charming to-night?’ and all that sort of unbearable——” “Shut up, Maude—don’t be rude. Please excuse her, Harold. I’m trying to teach her manners—she spent the extra tuppence on frivolity. You’ll both come, and there’s an end of it.” “The end of it will be that I shall leave you two children at the close of the meal, see?” “_We_ don’t mind, do we, Harold?” “Not a bit,” replied Grayson, as if he meant it. “You’re not polite, Mr. Grayson,” said Maude. “If you don’t treat me with due respect, I shall stay till the bitter end.” But, being a good-hearted girl, of course she didn’t. CHAPTER XV Detective-Sergeant Colson’s Deductions The newspaper paragraphs about the murder at Marsh Quay dwindled in length. There were several scathing leading articles dealing with the inefficiency of the local police, and expounding the systems that ought to be put into force. One leader-writer produced an article conclusively proving that the Government was to blame. Writers of that peculiar terse and asterisked matter—the editor, it is presumed, puts in the asterisks in exchange for the copy he deletes—which adorns the “magazine” page of certain of our morning papers reaped a small crop of guineas. Thus one of them described the manufacture of cigar bands another epitomised half a dozen yacht tragedies, and a third gave a graphic sketch of how he himself had sailed in the Marsh Quay estuary. The Sunday papers, of course, had their contributions. “An Expert in Crime” brilliantly reconstructed the whole murder, hinted at clues which the police ought to have found, and, without mentioning any names, left the impression on the mind of the reader that the two sailor-men, to wit, Jim Webb and Tom Gale, had acted in collusion, with the assistance of Mrs. Yates, who had countenanced a mysterious rendezvous at the “Mariner’s Arms.” The police were inundated with letters—suggestive and critical. People called at the police station to make statements, which were patiently received and laid on one side. But, as usual, the police quietly kept their own counsel and were unimpressed. Colson, who was now in the best of spirits, called on Canon Fittleworth.