fter her husband had cut her up and
tried, to burn her. 'Twas that bit o' shirt that brought him to the
gallows."

"I considers your museum's a very horrid place!" said Daisy
pettishly, turning away.

She longed to be out in the passage again, away from this brightly
lighted, cheerful-looking, sinister room.

But her father was now absorbed in the case containing various types
of infernal machines. "Beautiful little works of art some of them
are," said his guide eagerly, and Bunting could not but agree.

"Come along--do, father!" said Daisy quickly. "I've seen about
enough now. If I was to stay in here much longer it 'ud give me
the horrors. I don't want to have no nightmares to-night. It's
dreadful to think there are so many wicked people in the world.
Why, we might knock up against some murderer any minute without
knowing it, mightn't we?"

"Not you, Miss Daisy," said Chandler smilingly. "I don't suppose
you'll ever come across even a common swindler, let alone anyone
who's committed a murder--not one in a million does that. Why,
even I have never had anything to do with a proper murder case!"

But Bunting was in no hurry. He was thoroughly enjoying every
moment of the time. Just now he was studying intently the various
photographs which hung on the walls of the Black Museum; especially
was he pleased to see those connected with a famous and still
mysterious case which had taken place not long before in Scotland,
and in which the servant of the man who died had played a
considerable part--not in elucidating, but in obscuring, the mystery.

"I suppose a good many murderers get off?" he said musingly.

And Joe Chandler's friend nodded. "I should think they did!" he
exclaimed. "There's no such thing as justice here in England.
'Tis odds on the murderer every time. 'Tisn't one in ten that
come to the end he should do--to the gallows, that is."

"And what d'you think about what's going on now--I mean about
those Avenger murders?"

Bunting lowered his voice, but Daisy and Chandler were already
moving towards the door.

"I don't believe he'll ever be caught," said the other
confidentially. "In some ways 'tis a lot more of a job to catch a
madman than 'tis to run down just an ordinary criminal. And, of
course--leastways to my thinking--The Avenger is a madman--one
of the cunning, quiet sort. Have you heard about the letter?" his
voice dropped lower.

"No," said Bunting, staring eagerly at him. "What letter d