appeared　utterly　indifferent。　　Only　once　had　she　been　betrayed　into
  a　momentary　emotion。　　It　was　when　her　solicitors　were　urging　her
  almost　angrily　to　give　them　some　particulars　upon　a　point　they
  thought　might　be　helpful　to　her　case。
  〃He's　dead！〃　she　had　cried　out　almost　with　a　note　of　exultation。
  〃Dead！　　Dead！　　What　else　matters？〃
  The　next　moment　she　had　apologised　for　her　outburst。
  〃Nothing　can　do　any　good；〃　she　had　said。　　〃Let　the　thing　take　its
  course。〃
  It　was　the　astounding　callousness　of　the　woman　that　told　against　her
  both　with　the　judge　and　the　jury。　　That　shaving　in　the　dining…room；
  the　murdered　man's　body　not　yet　cold！　　It　must　have　been　done　with
  Hepworth's　safety…razor。　　She　must　have　brought　it　down　to　him；
  found　him　a　looking…glass；　brought　him　soap　and　water　and　a　towel；
  afterwards　removing　all　traces。　　Except　those　few　red　hairs　that　had
  clung；　unnoticed；　to　the　carpet。　　That　nest　of　flat…irons　used　to
  weight　the　body！　　It　must　have　been　she　who　had　thought　of　them。
  The　idea　would　never　have　occurred　to　a　man。　　The　chain　and　padlock
  with　which　to　fasten　them。　　She　only　could　have　known　that　such
  things　were　in　the　house。　　It　must　have　been　she　who　had　planned　the
  exchange　of　clothes　in　Hepworth's　office；　giving　him　the　key。　　She
  it　must　have　been　who　had　thought　of　the　pond；　holding　open　the　door
  while　the　man　had　staggered　out　under　his　ghastly　burden；　waited；
  keeping　watch；　listening　to　hear　the　splash。
  Evidently　it　had　been　her　intention　to　go　off　with　the　murdererto
  live　with　him！　　That　story　about　America。　　If　all　had　gone　well；　it
  would　have　accounted　for　everything。　　After　leaving　Laleham　Gardens
  she　had　taken　lodgings　in　a　small　house　in　Kentish　Town　under　the
  name　of　Howard；　giving　herself　out　to　be　a　chorus　singer；　her
  husband　being　an　actor　on　tour。　　To　make　the　thing　plausible；　she
  had　obtained　employment　in　one　of　the　pantomimes。　　Not　for　a　moment
  had　she　lost　her　head。　　No　one　had　ever　called　at　her　lodgings；　and
  there　had　come　no　letters　for　her。　　Every　hour　of　her　day　could　be
  accounted　for。　　Their　plans　must　have　been　worked　out　over　the
  corpse　of　her　murdered　husband。　　She　was　found　guilty　of　being　an
  〃accessory　after　the　fact；〃　and　sentenced　to　fifteen　years'　penal
  servitude。
  That　brought　the　story　up　to　eleven　years　ago。　　After　the　trial；
  interested　in　spite　of　himself；　my　friend　had　ferreted　out　some
  further　particulars。　　Inquiries　at　Liverpool　had　procured　him　the
  information　that　Hepworth's　father；　a　shipowner　in　a　small　way；　had
  been　well　known　and　highly　respected。　　He　was　retired　from　business
  when　he　died；　some　three　years　previous　to　the　date　of　the　murder。
  His　wife　had　survived　him　by　only　a　few　months。　　Besides　Michael；
  the　murdered　son；　there　were　two　other　childrenan　elder　brother；
  who　was　thought　to　have　gone　abroad　to　one　of　the　colonies；　and　a
  sister　who　had　married　a　French　naval　officer。　　Either　they　had　not
  heard　of　the　case　or　had　not　wished　to　have　their　names　dragged　into
  it。　　Young　Michael　had　started　life　as　an　architect；　and　was
  supposed　to　have　been　doing　well；　but　after　the　death　of　his　parents
  had　disappeared　from　the　neighbourhood；　and；　until　the　trial；　none
  of　his　acquaintances　up　North　ever　knew　what　had　become　of　him。
  But　a　further　item　of　knowledge　that　my　friend's　inquiries　had
  elicited　had　somewhat　puzzled　him。　　Hepworth's　clerk；　Ellenby；　had
  been　the　confidential　clerk　of　Hepworth's　father！　　He　had　entered
  the　service　of　the　firm　as　a　boy；　and　when　Hepworth　senior　retired；
  Ellenbywith　the　old　gentleman's　assistancehad　started　in
  business　for　himself　as　a　ships'　furnisher！　　Nothing　of　all　this
  came　out　at　the　trial。　　Ellenby　had　not　been　cross…examined。　　There
  was　no　need　for　it。　　But　it　seemed　odd；　under　all　the　circumstances；
  that　he　had　not　volunteered　the　information。　　It　may；　of　course；
  have　been　for　the　sake　of　the　brother　and　sister。　　Hepworth　is　a
  common　enough　name　in　the　North。　　He　may　have　hoped　to　keep　the
  family　out　of　connection　with　the　case。
  As　regards　the　woman；　my　friend　could　learn　nothing　further　beyond
  the　fact　that；　in　her　contract　with　the　music…hall　agent　in
  Rotterdam；　she　had　described　herself　as　the　daughter　of　an　English
  musician；　and　had　stated　that　both　her　parents　were　dead。　　She　may
  have　engaged　herself　without　knowing　the　character　of　the　hall；　and
  the　man；　Charlie　Martin；　with　his　handsome　face　and　pleasing　sailor
  ways；　and　at　least　an　Englishman；　may　have　seemed　to　her　a　welcome
  escape。
  She　may　have　been　passionately　fond　of　him；　and　young　Hepworth…
  …crazy　about　her；　for　she　was　beautiful　enough　to　turn　any　man's
  headmay　in　Martin's　absence　have　lied　to　her；　told　her　he　was
  deadlord　knows　what！to　induce　her　to　marry　him。　　The　murder　may
  have　seemed　to　her　a　sort　of　grim　justice。
  But　even　so；　her　cold…blooded　callousness　was　surely　abnormal！　　She
  had　married　him；　lived　with　him　for　nearly　a　year。　　To　the　Jetsons
  she　had　given　the　impression　of　being　a　woman　deeply　in　love　with
  her　husband。　　It　could　not　have　been　mere　acting　kept　up　day　after
  day。
  〃There　was　something　else。〃　　We　were　discussing　the　case　in　my
  friend's　chambers。　　His　brief　of　eleven　years　ago　was　open　before
  him。　　He　was　pacing　up　and　down　with　his　hands　in　his　pockets；
  thinking　as　he　talked。　　〃Something　that　never　came　out。　　There　was　a
  curious　feeling　she　gave　me　in　that　moment　when　sentence　was
  pronounced　upon　her。　　It　was　as　if；　instead　of　being　condemned；　she
  had　triumphed。　　Acting！　　If　she　had　acted　during　the　trial；
  pretended　remorse；　even　pity；　I　could　have　got　her　off　with　five
  years。　　She　seemed　to　be　unable　to　disguise　the　absolute　physical
  relief　she　felt　at　the　thought　that　he　was　dead；　that　his　hand　would
  never　again　touch　her。　　There　must　have　been　something　that　had
  suddenly　been　revealed　to　her；　something　that　had　turned　her　love　to
  hate。
  〃There　must　be　something　fine　about　the　man；　too。〃　　That　was　another
  suggestion　that　came　to　him　as　he　stood　staring　out　of　the　window
  across　the　river。　　〃She's　paid　and　has　got　her　receipt；　but　he　is
  still　'wanted。'　　He　is　risking　his　neck　every　evening　he　watches　for
  the　raising　of　that　blind。〃
  His　thought　took　another　turn。
  〃Yet　how　could　he　have　let　her　go　through　those　ten　years　of　living
  death　while　he　walked　the　streets　scot　free？　　Some　time　during　the
  trialthe　evidence　piling　up　against　her　day　by　daywhy　didn't　he
  come　forward；　if　only　to　stand　beside　her？　　Get　himself　hanged；　if
  only　out　of　mere　decency？〃
  He　sat　down；　took　the　brief　up　in　his　hand　without　looking　at　it。
  〃Or　was　that　the　reward　that　she　claimed？　　That　he　should　wait；
  keeping　alive　the　one　hope　that　would　make　the　suffering　possible　to
  her？　　Yes；〃　he　continued；　musing；　〃I　can　see　a　man　who　cared　for　a
  woman　taking　that　as　his　punishment。〃
  Now　that　his　interest　in　the　case　had　been　revived　he　seemed　unable
  to　keep　it　out　of　his　mind。　　Since　our　joint　visit　I　had　once　or
  twice　passed　through　the　street　by　myself；　and　on　the　last　occasion
  had　again　seen　the　raising　of　the　blind。　　It　obsessed　himthe
  desire　to　meet　the　man　face　to　face。　　A　handsome；　bold；　masterful
  man；　he　conceived　him。　　But　there　must　be　something　more　for　such　a
  woman　to　have　sold　her　soulalmost；　one　might　sayfor　the　sake　of
  him。
  There　was　just　one　chance　of　succeeding。　　Each　time　he　had　come　from
  the　direction　of　the　Edgware　Road。　　By　keeping　well　out　of　sight　at
  the　other　end　of　the　street；　and　watching　till　he　entered　it；　one
  might　time　oneself　to　come　upon　him　just　under　the　lamp。　　He　would
  hardly　be　likely　to　turn　and　go　back；　that　would　be　to　give　himself
  away。　　He　would　probably　content　himself　with　pretending　to　be　like
  ourselves；　merely　hurrying　through；　and　in　his　turn　watching　till　we
  had　disappeared。
  Fortune　seemed　inclined　to　favour　us。　　About　the　usual　time　the
  blind　was　gently　raised；　and　very　soon　afterwards　there　came　round
  the　corner　the　figure　of　a　man。　　We　entered　the　street　ourselves　a
  few　seconds　later；　and　it　seemed　likely　that；　as　we　had　planned；　we
  should　come　face　to　face　with　him　under　the　gaslight。　　He　walked
  towards　us；　stooping　and　with　bent　head。　　We　expected　him　to　pass
  the　house　by。　　To　our　surprise　he　stopped　when　he　came　to　it；　and
  pushed　open　the　gate。　　In　another　moment　we　should　have　lost　all
  chance　of　seeing　anything　more　of　him　except　his　bent　back。　　With　a
  couple　of　strides　my　friend　was　behind　him。　　He　laid　his　hand　on　the
  man's　shoulder　and　forced　him　to　turn　round。　　It　was　an　old；
  wrinkled　face　with　gentle；　rather　watery　eyes。
  We　were　both　so　taken　aback　that　for　a　moment　we　could　say　nothing。
  My　friend　stammered　out　an　apology　about　having　mistaken　the　house；
  and　rejoined　me。　　At　the　corner　we　burst　out　laughing　almost
  simultaneously。　　And　then　my　friend　suddenly　stopped　and　stared　at
  me。
  〃Hepworth's　old　clerk！〃　he　said。　　〃Ellenby！〃
  *　　　　　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　*
  It　seemed　to　him　monstrous。　　The　man　had　been　more　than　a　clerk。
  The　family　had　treated　him　as　a　friend。　　Hepworth's　father　had　set
  him　up　in　business。　　For　the　murdered　lad　he　had　had　a　sincere
  attachment；　he　had　left　that　conviction　on　all　of　them。　　What　was
  the　meaning　of