"Oh, that was my idear of getting into the 'ouse," explained Mrs. Basket, complacently. "She said she wasn't, and told me so in the kitching, where it was I wished to be. Then she looked so poorly that I offered to make 'er a cup of tea, and she said I might, asking me questions about the people 'ere in the meantime." "What sort of questions?" "Oh, what was thought of her, and if they called her names," returned Mrs. Basket, incoherently. "But I made 'er the tea and she 'ad it. For a few minutes she went into the front parlour, and I looked in all the dresser drawers for the knife, but it wasn't there. No, doctor," repeated Mrs. Basket, with emphasis, "I do assure you it wasn't in the 'ole of that there kitching, though I searched most perticler." "Someone might have stolen the knife." "There weren't nobody in the 'ouse to steal it. Not a soul ever went near the viller but tradesmen, and they never got no further than the back door. Sir, I do believe as she murdered him with the knife, and 'id it way arterwards--p'r'aps in them brickfields," concluded Mrs. Basket, vaguely. "Well, we can't be sure of that. You are certain that Mrs. Moxton had no visitors?" "Quite, sir." "And she saw no one?" "Not a blessed soul save 'er 'usband as she did for. And if you'll excuse me, doctor, I've my work to look arter," whereupon the gossip waddled away with the breakfast tray. It may appear strange that a cultured man like Ellis should listen to the coarse babblings of an uneducated woman, but he had a reason for doing so. For the sake of protecting Mrs. Moxton it was needful that he should know the gossip of the neighbourhood, and none could so well enlighten him on this point as Mrs. Basket. Several times her openly-expressed conviction of Mrs. Moxton's guilt made Ellis wince, and but for the above reason he would have ordered her out of the room. However, his self-control gained him two pieces of information; firstly, that Mrs. Moxton had received no masculine visitor since her arrival in Dukesfield, and, secondly, that the carving-knife with which the murder--from the nature of the wound--might have been committed, had disappeared. Ellis was now satisfied that the widow had no lover, but he was disturbed over the concealment or loss--he did not know which to call it--of the carving-knife. If no one but Mrs. Moxton was, or had been, in the house, she must know the whereabouts of the knife. For enlightenment on this point, and in order to satisfy his doubts, Ellis made up his mind to call on the widow, and, acting on the impulse of the moment, did so. Strangely enough Mrs. Moxton not only welcomed him eagerly, but informed him that his arrival was opportune. "If you had not come I should have sent for you," said she, and conducted him into a cheerful little sitting-room all white paint, Chinese matting, and furniture covered with bright-hued chintz. "What is the matter, Mrs. Moxton? There is nothing wrong, I hope."