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“Very likely,” he answered. . “Too bad to keep you waiting,” Annabel exclaimed. To the poor carpenter it seemed an endless distance. He was a small, dark, reserved man, with a large inflexiblelooking convex forehead, and his wife was very pink and high-spirited, with one of those chins that pass insensibly into a full, strong neck. Stanley took the letter and stood with it in his hand thoughtfully for a time. There was a great splash of blood upon it, her hand was all wet and sticky. "Your health, Kneebone. " "I cannot consent to it," replied Sir Rowland firmly. "Halloa, widow!" shouted a rough voice from below, "where the devil are you?" Mrs. Chapter XXIV A CASE FOR THE POLICE After that first horrible moment it was perhaps Anna who was the more selfpossessed. “Come,” he said, “you can’t be meaning to bury yourself.

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