"I thought that if you were washed that you might be pretty." "Well," said Elspeth, unmoved. "And that I might marry you." The girl flushed. "I would sooner kill myself," she cried in a spirited tone. "My life is hard enough, but marriage with you"--she shuddered and cast a look of loathing at this creature, who dared to present himself as her lover. "Oh, very well, miss," said Pope shrilly, his voice invariably grew shrill when he became angry, "I'll tell mother about you, and she'll make it hot for you. You piggish drudge," he raged, stamping up and down the tap-room, "you ugly cat--you nasty beast, I wouldn't marry you, if you were set with diamonds like--like----" he stopped, abruptly. "Like what?" inquired Elspeth sarcastically. "Like the king's crown," ended the poet lamely, and then his wrath died down, as suddenly as it had arisen. "I say, Elspeth, I didn't mean what I said. Make me a cup of tea! Do! Do! Do!" The creature was like a naughty child, and Elspeth made every allowance for his nerves. Quarrels of this sort were frequent between them, yet Pope in his own half-mad way was in love with Elspeth, and when things went awry with him, would always come to be comforted by her. This did not make her position any the more easy with Mrs. Narby, who was like a tigress with her cub, when Pope was in the question. Mean as was the inn, and lowly as was the position of herself and her husband, Mrs. Narby would have gone out of her mind with rage at the idea of her darling marrying Elspeth. That the girl was indubitably a lady, Mrs. Narby never recognised. She looked on Elspeth as a drudge, and would have broken her neck sooner than call her daughter-in-law. To keep Pope quiet, Elspeth made some tea, and the poet retired to his favourite settle, there to compose poetry. In a few moments Trent came down with Browne, and they went into the parlour. When the poet was busy with his verses, and abstractedly sipping the tea, Elspeth crept to the door of the parlour, and listened. She blushed at the idea of eavesdropping, but in the cause of Herries, she would have dared to do a deal more. Unlucky as the hunted man was, he had at least two friends, Dr. Browne, and Elspeth, who had no surname. "Until I make a proper examination I cannot be quite certain," she heard the doctor say, "but I think the old man was killed somewhere about twelve o'clock last night. Was no cry heard?" "None," replied Trent. "At least the landlady told me so. And, as the bed is covered with blood, I expect that he was attacked when he was asleep." "Probable enough," mused the doctor. "Well, Mr. Inspector, you had better get your doctor from Tarhaven, and have the body officially examined. I suppose the inquest will take place here?" "I think it will be best, doctor. I'll send to Sir Simon's house, and break the news to his daughter." "Let me go," urged Browne, "I know her well, and will be able to tell her the tragedy in a more gentle way than you would."