hrewd-faced, self-possessed woman who
tripped into the witness-box and admitted cheerfully that she was Mrs.
Marriner, proprietor of Marriner's Laundry, and that she washed for
several of the best families in Hathelsborough. The fragment of
handkerchief which had been found in the Mayor's Parlour was handed to
her for inspection, and the Coroner asked her if she could say
definitely if she knew whose it was. There was considerable doubt and
scepticism in his voice as he put the question; but Mrs. Marriner showed
herself the incarnation of sure and positive conviction.

"Yes, sir," she answered. "It's Dr. Wellesley's."

"You must wash a great many handkerchiefs at your laundry, Mrs.
Marriner," observed the Coroner. "How can you be sure about one--about
that one?"

"I'm sure enough about that one, sir, because it's one of a dozen that's
gone through my hands many a time!" asserted Mrs. Marriner. "There's
nobody in the town, sir, leastways not amongst my customers--and I wash
for all the very best people, sir--that has any handkerchiefs like them,
except Dr. Wellesley. They're the very finest French cambric. That there
is a piece of one of the doctor's best handkerchiefs, sir, as sure as
I'm in this here box--which I wish I wasn't!"

The Coroner asked nothing further; he was still plainly impatient about
the handkerchief evidence, if not wholly sceptical, and he waved Mrs.
Marriner away. But Cotman stopped her.

"I suppose, Mrs. Marriner, that mistakes are sometimes made when you and
your assistants send home the clean clothes?" he suggested. "Things get
in the wrong baskets, eh?"

"Well, not often--at my place, sir," replied Mrs. Marriner. "We're very
particular."

"Still--sometimes, you know?"

"Oh, I'll not say that they don't, sometimes, sir," admitted Mrs.
Marriner. "We're all of us human creatures, as you're very well aware,
sir."

"This particular handkerchief may have got into a wrong basket?" urged
Cotman. "It's--possible?"

"Oh, it's possible, sir," said Mrs. Marriner. "Mistakes will happen,
sir."

Mrs. Marriner disappeared amongst the crowd, and a new witness took her
place. She, too, was a woman, and a young and pretty one--and in a
tearful and nervous condition. Tansley glanced at her and turned, with a
significant glance, to Brent.

"Great Scott!" he whispered. "Wellesley's housemaid!"

CHAPTER XII

CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE

Interest was beginning to thicken: the people in court, f