"A bit of torn paper," she replied; "from the scrap basket, there," touching it with her foot. "I was emptying it in the fire." "And didn't the sheriff say you wasn't to touch nothing?" She met his alarmed look with a timid shrug of her shoulders. "Have ye no sense at all?" Martha favored him with a blank stare as she stood twisting her hands in her apron. "I had to build up the fire," she mumbled. "'Twas only an old newspaper and such like rubbish." "Ye hadn't oughter touched it," he growled. "Suppose Sheriff Trenholm or one of his men ask for the basket?" "Well, here 'tis." With a swift glance about them, she darted over to a chair and taking up a newspaper lying upon it, crumpled it up and thrust it into the scrap basket. Hurrying to the mahogany desk she jerked open one of the drawers and drew out a bundle of letters and tossed it into the basket also. "Have a care, Martha!" exclaimed Corbin, who had followed her rapid movements in startled silence. "There's to be a search and everything in Abbott's Lodge examined by the sheriff." "He'll find the newspaper and the letters in the scrap basket as easy as if they were on the chair or in the drawer," she remarked, smiling shrewdly. "'Twon't matter _where_ they find 'em." She smoothed down the torn hem of her large apron and drew closer to her husband. "What do ye 'spose he done with it?" "Sh!" He clapped his scarred hand across her lips. "Hold your tongue, woman. They'll hear, mebbe." "Nobody to hear," she replied tersely, drawing away from him. "Mr. Alan is seeing Coroner Dixon off and Miss Betty Carter is still upstairs in the room with _him_!" She shivered. "Ain't it _awful_ the way she's taking on?" Corbin nodded, half absently, his eyes intent on scanning the living room and its staircase at its other end. "Surprising, after we know what happened," he admitted, speaking in little more than a whisper. "But, recollect, Martha, 'tain't up to us to _talk_. If ye do"--His look caused her to catch her breath. "Well, ye know what's coming to ye. Ye understand"--and he seized her arm and turned it until she winced with pain. "Leave me be!" She winced again as Corbin, with a final twist, released her arm. "You've no call to handle me so." Corbin's only answer was a vicious scowl and Martha shrank back, one hand to her trembling lips. "I don't need to speak twice," he commented. "_You_ know me." She nodded dumbly as she retreated behind a chair. "Did ye hear when the nurse was leaving?" she asked. The question went unanswered as Corbin, his attention attracted by voices on the floor above, slipped noiselessly down the passageway through which he had entered some minutes earlier unseen by his wife. Left to her own devices, Martha picked up a box of matches and lighted one of the lamps. She had succeeded in adjusting the wick when she looked up and caught sight of Betty Carter regarding her from the lower landing of the staircase.