ll get promotion for that!"

"What about the clue?" asked Mrs. Bunting, with dry lips. "You said
there was a clue?"

"Well, I don't rightly understand about the clue myself. All I
knows is it's got something to do with a public-house, 'The Hammer
and Tongs,' which isn't far off there. They feels sure The Avenger
was in the bar just on closing-time."

And then Mrs. Bunting sat down. She felt better now. It was natural
the police should suspect a public-house loafer. "Then that's why you
wasn't able to go and fetch Daisy, I suppose?"

He nodded. "Mum's the word, Mrs. Bunting! It'll all be in the last
editions of the evening newspapers--it can't be kep' out. There'd be
too much of a row if 'twas!"

"Are you going off to that public-house now?" she asked.

"Yes, I am. I've got a awk'ard job--to try and worm something out
of the barmaid."

"Something out of the barmaid?" repeated Mrs. Bunting nervously.
"Why, whatever for?"

He came and stood close to her. "They think 'twas a gentleman," he
whispered.

"A gentleman?"

Mrs. Bunting stared at Chandler with a scared expression. "Whatever
makes them think such a silly thing as that?"

"Well, just before closing-time a very peculiar-looking gent, with a
leather bag in his hand, went into the bar and asked for a glass of
milk. And what d'you think he did? Paid for it with a sovereign!
He wouldn't take no change--just made the girl a present of it!
That's why the young woman what served him seems quite unwilling to
give him away. She won't tell now what he was like. She doesn't
know what he's wanted for, and we don't want her to know just yet.
That's one reason why nothing's being said public about it. But
there! I really must be going now. My time'll be up at three
o'clock. I thought of coming in on the way back, and asking you for
a cup o' tea, Mrs. Bunting."

"Do," she said. "Do, Joe. You'll be welcome," but there was no
welcome in her tired voice.

She let him go alone to the door, and then she went down to her
kitchen, and began cooking Mr. Sleuth's breakfast.

The lodger would be sure to ring soon; and then any minute Bunting
and Daisy might be home, and they'd want something, too. Margaret
always had breakfast even when "the family" were away, unnaturally
early.

As she bustled about Mrs. Bunting tried to empty her mind of all
thought. But it is very difficult to do that when one is in a state
of torturing uncertainty. She had not dared to ask Chandler