If Mrs. Moxton was pale before she became even paler at this last remark, and, shrinking back, spread out her hands with a terrified gesture. "No, no, not the police! Why the police?" "You say your husband has been murdered," cried Cass, with sudden suspicion; "therefore the police must be called in at once. Who murdered the man?" "I don't know," murmured Mrs. Moxton. Then his imperious, suspicious tone seemed to stir her indignation. She threw back her head haughtily. "I don't know," she repeated deliberately. "My husband went out this evening. I sat up for him as he promised to return about midnight. Shortly after eleven"--here she glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece--"I heard a cry, and thinking something was wrong I ran to the door. There was someone moaning on the garden path. I went to see who it was, and found my husband bleeding to death from a wound in the back. He died a minute afterwards, and I came for you." "How did you recognise your husband in the dark?" "I--I had a candle," she replied, in a low voice and with hesitation. "It's blowing awful," wheezed Mrs. Basket at the door, and the other woman turned towards her abruptly. The landlady's full moon of a face had suspicion written in every wrinkle. "Had you the carving-knife?" she asked. "The carving-knife?" "Yes, the same as you frightened the telegraph boy with?" "I had no carving-knife," returned Mrs. Moxton, haughtily. "What do you mean by these questions?" She turned again to the men and burst into furious speech. "Have I come to a lunatic asylum?" she cried. "You talk, this woman talks, and I want help. Doctor, come! Come at once! And you, sir, go for the police if it is necessary." Ellis hastily threw on a cap, snatched up some needful things for a wounded man, and followed Mrs. Moxton out of the house. Mrs. Basket and Harry were left face to face with the same thought in their minds. "What did I say about her 'aving the carving-knife, sir?" "Yes, by Jove! And her talking of exploring with a lighted candle in this wind!" "She's afraid of the police, too, Mr. Cass," said Mrs. Basket, in tragic tones. "She's done for him, sir." "Well--she--might--No," cried Harry, rumpling his hair. "If she was guilty she would not come for Ellis." Mrs. Basket snorted in a disbelieving manner. "Oh, wouldn't she, sir? You don't know the hussies women are. That Mrs. Moxton's a deep 'un as ever was." "Here," cried Cass, rummaging about for his cap, "I'm losing time. I must go for the police at once." "Come back and tell me if they takes her," shouted Mrs. Basket after him with morbid glee. "I believe she's done it with the carving-knife."