make anybody wild--now, wouldn't it?"

"Possibly," smiled Franklin. "Of course there is always the lady's point
of view. The sex is proverbially fickle, you know. 'Woman, thy vows are
traced in sand,' Lord Byron has it."

"Ay, an' some men's, too," guffawed Hobbs. "Wot about Peggy Smith, Fred?"

Elkin blew a mouthful of cigarette smoke at the butcher.

"What about that tough old bull you bought at Knoleworth on Monday?"
he retorted.

Hobbs's face grew purple. Mr. Franklin beckoned to Tomlin.

"Ask these gentlemen what they'll have," he said gently. The landlord
made a clatter of glasses, and the threatened storm passed.

"You've aroused my curiosity," remarked Franklin to Peters, but taking
the company at large into the conversation. "This does certainly strike
one as a remarkable case. Is there no suspicion yet as to the actual
murderer?"

"None whatever," said Peters.

"That's what you may call the police opinion," broke in Elkin. "We
Steynholme folk have a pretty clear notion, I can assure you."

"The matter is still _sub judice_, and may remain so a long time," said
Siddle. "It is simply stupid to attach a kind of responsibility to the