ing," said Mr. Travers, eagerly. "We don't want
anybody else to hear. Fire into this."

He snatched a patchwork rug from the floor and stuck it up against the
balusters. "You stay here," said Mrs. Waters. He nodded.

She pointed the gun at the hearth-rug, the walls shook with the
explosion, and, with a shriek that set Mr. Travers's teeth on edge, she
rushed downstairs and, drawing back the bolts of the back door, tottered
outside and into the arms of the agitated boatswain.

"Oh! oh! oh!" she cried.

"What--what's the matter?" gasped the boatswain.

The widow struggled in his arms. "A burglar," she said, in a tense
whisper. "But it's all right; I've killed him."

"Kill--" stuttered the other. "Kill----_Killed him?_"

Mrs. Waters nodded and released herself, "First shot," she said, with a
satisfied air.

The boatswain wrung his hands. "Good heavens!" he said, moving slowly
towards the door. "Poor fellow!"

"Come back," said the widow, tugging at his coat.

"I was--was going to see--whether I could do anything for 'im," quavered
the boatswain. "Poor fellow!"

"You stay where you are," commanded Mrs. Waters. "I don't want any
witnesses. I don't want this house to have a bad name. I'm going to
keep it quiet."

"Quiet?" said the shaking boatswain. "How?"

"First thing to do," said the widow, thoughtfully, "is to get rid of the
body. I'll bury him in the garden, I think. There's a very good bit of
ground behind those potatoes. You'll find the spade in the tool-house."

The horrified Mr. Benn stood stock-still regarding her.

"While you're digging the grave," continued Mrs. 'Waters, calmly, "I'll
go in and clean up the mess."

The boatswain reeled and then fumbled with trembling fingers at his
collar.

Like a man in a dream he stood watching as she ran to the tool-house and
returned with a spade and pick; like a man in a dream he followed her on
to the garden.

"Be careful," she said, sharply; "you're treading down my potatoes."

The boatswain stopped dead and stared at her. Apparently unconscious of
his gaze, she began to pace out the measurements and then, placing the
tools in his hands, urged him to lose no time.

"I'll bring him down when you're gone," she said, looking towards the
house.

The boatswain wiped his damp brow with the back of his hand. "How are
you going to get it downstairs?" he breathed.

"Drag it," said Mrs. Waters, briefly.

"Suppose he isn't dead?" said th