the passage and let himself out very, very quietly.

But though she tried to keep awake, Mrs. Bunting did not hear him
come in again, for she soon fell into a heavy sleep.

Oddly enough, she was the first to wake the next morning; odder
still, it was she, not Bunting, who jumped out of bed, and going
out into the passage, picked up the newspaper which had just been
pushed through the letter-box.

But having picked it up, Mrs. Bunting did not go back at once into
her bedroom. Instead she lit the gas in the passage, and leaning
up against the wall to steady herself, for she was trembling with
cold and fatigue, she opened the paper.

Yes, there was the heading she sought:

"The AVENGER Murders"

But, oh, how glad she was to see the words that followed:

"Up to the time of going to press there is little new to report
concerning the extraordinary series of crimes which are amazing,
and, indeed, staggering not only London, but the whole civilised
world, and which would seem to be the work of some woman-hating
teetotal fanatic. Since yesterday morning, when the last of these
dastardly murders was committed, no reliable clue to the perpetrator,
or perpetrators, has been obtained, though several arrests were made
in the course of the day. In every case, however, those arrested
were able to prove a satisfactory alibi."

And then, a little lower down:

"The excitement grows and grows. It is not too much to say that
even a stranger to London would know that something very unusual
was in the air. As for the place where the murder was committed
last night--"

"Last night!" thought Mrs. Bunting, startled; and then she realised
that "last night," in this connection, meant the night before last.

She began the sentence again:

"As for the place where the murder was committed last night, all
approaches to it were still blocked up to a late hour by hundreds
of onlookers, though, of course, nothing now remains in the way of
traces of the tragedy."

Slowly and carefully Mrs. Bunting folded the paper up again in its
original creases, and then she stooped and put it back down on the
mat where she had found it. She then turned out the gas, and going
back into bed she lay down by her still sleeping husband.

"Anything the matter?" Bunting murmured, and stirred uneasily.
"Anything the matter, Ellen?"

She answered in a whisper, a whisper thrilling with a strange
gladness, "No, nothing, Bunting--nothing the matter! Go to sleep