hen he reads of a man
murdering his wife under exceptionally brutal circumstances, that she
must have been giving him too many scrambled eggs. In fact, he wrote
articles about it, entitled 'The Psychology of Diet,' in the Sunday
papers, signed 'By a Physician.'

Henry is not a physician. Neither is he 'An Eminent Surgeon,' 'A
Harley Street Expert,' an 'Ex-M.P.,' 'A Special Crime Investigator,' or
'A Well-known Bishop,' although he has written under all these
pseudonyms. Do not blame Henry. In private life he seeks the truth as
one who seeks the light, but by profession he is a journalist. Not
being an expert in anything, he can write about everything--which is
the true test of the born journalist.

But to return to Elizabeth. With the remembrance of the similar
interview of only a few hours before still rankling in my mind, I
looked at her a little austerely. This time it was I who began the
causerie.

'First of all I must tell you,' I said, 'that we have no hot water
circulator.'

'Carn't abide them things,' commented Elizabeth; 'they bust sometimes
and blows folks up.'

'We have no outside help,' I continued.

'An' a good thing, too. One place I was in the char 'elped 'erself to
things an' it was me who was blamed fer it.'

'We have no gas-cooker.'

'Well, that's all right, then. Don't understand 'em. Give me a proper
kitchen range, that's all I ask.'

I looked up hopefully. If all she asked for was a kitchen range I
should be glad enough to give her a little thing like that. But the
supreme test was yet to come. 'We don't send everything to the
laundry,' I began.

'I 'ope you don't,' she broke in, 'leastways my clothes. The state
they send 'em back, 'arf torn to ribbons. A girl never 'as 'er 'and
out of 'er pocket buying new things. Besides, I like a bit o'
washin'--makes a change, I always say.'

My heart began to beat so loudly with hope that I could hardly hear my
own voice as I asked, 'How . . . how soon can you come?'

'To-morrow, if you like,' she answered casually. 'I've 'ad a row with
the friend I'm stayin' with and I can't abide living-in with folks I've
fallen out with.'

I struggled to reconstruct this sentence and then, remembering what was
required of me, I remarked, 'And your references?'

She gave me the address of her last place.

'Are they on the 'phone?' I questioned eagerly. 'If so, I'll settle
the thing at once.' It seemed they were. I tottered to the telep