Now to-day--this day of which the happenings were to linger in Mrs.
Bunting's mind so very long, and to remain so very vivid, it had
been arranged that Mr. Sleuth was to have some fish for his lunch,
while what he left was to be "done up" to serve for his simple supper.

Knowing that Bunting would be out for at least an hour, for he was
a gregarious soul, and liked to have a gossip in the shops he
frequented, Mrs. Bunting rose and dressed in a leisurely manner;
then she went and "did" her front sitting-room.

She felt languid and dull, as one is apt to feel after a broken
night, and it was a comfort to her to know that Mr. Sleuth was not
likely to ring before twelve.

But long before twelve a loud ring suddenly clanged through the
quiet house. She knew it for the front door bell.

Mrs. Bunting frowned. No doubt the ring betokened one of those
tiresome people who come round for old bottles and such-like
fal-lals.

She went slowly, reluctantly to the door. And then her face cleared,
for it was that good young chap, Joe Chandler, who stood waiting
outside.

He was breathing a little hard, as if he had walked over-quickly
through the moist, foggy air.

"Why, Joe?" said Mrs. Bunting wonderingly. "Come in--do! Bunting's