grim,' gushed Daisy,
childishly.

'No one knows, Miss Norsham. The jury brought in a verdict of wilful
murder against some person or persons unknown. You must excuse me if I
speak too technically, but those are the precise words of the verdict.'

'And very silly words they are!' pronounced the hostess, _ex cathedra_;
'but what can you expect from a parcel of trading fools?'

'But, Mrs Pansey, no one knows who killed this man.'

'They should find out, Mr Cargrim.'

'They have tried to do so and have failed!' 'That shows that what I say
is true. Police and jury are fools,' said Mrs Pansey, with the
triumphant air of one clinching an argument.

'Oh, dear, it is so very strange!' said the fair Daisy. 'I wonder really
what could have been the motive for the murder?'

'As the pockets were turned inside out,' said Mr Cargrim, 'it is
believed that robbery was the motive.'

'Rubbish!' said Mrs Pansey, shaking her skirts; 'there is a deal more in
this crime than meets the eye.'

'I believe general opinion is agreed upon that point,' said the
chaplain, dryly.

'What is Miss Whichello's opinion?' demanded the archdeacon's widow.
Cargrim could not suppress a start. It was strange that Mrs Pansey
should allude to Miss Whichello, when he also had his suspicions
regarding her knowledge of the dead man.

'I don't see what she has to do with it,' he said quietly, with the
intention of arriving at Mrs Pansey's meaning.

'Ah! no more can anyone else, Mr Cargrim. But I know! I know!'

'Know what? dear Mrs Pansey. Oh, really! you are not going to say that
poor Miss Whichello fired that horrid pistol.'

'I don't say anything, Daisy, as I don't want to figure in a libel
action; but I should like to know why Miss Whichello went to the
dead-house to see the body.'

'Did she go there? are you sure?' exclaimed the chaplain, much
surprised.

'I can believe my own eyes, can't I!' snapped Mrs Pansey. 'I saw her
myself, for I was down near the police-station the other evening on one
of my visits to the poor. There, while returning home by the dead-house,
I saw that hussy of a Bell Mosk making eyes at a policeman, and I
recognised Miss Whichello for all her veil.'

'Did she wear a veil?'

'I should think so; and a very thick one. But if she wants to do
underhand things she should change her bonnet and cloak. I knew them!
don't tell me!'

Certainly, Miss Whichello's actions seemed suspicious; and, anxious to
learn their meaning