a fib just now"--Mrs. Piper's voice again dropped to a
whisper. "Piper's made a clean breast o' the matter to me, and I do think
as what it's common justice to admit that my 'usband's evidence at that
inquest was worth more than twenty-five pound to you. It wasn't what
Piper said; _it was what 'e didn't say that mattered_, Mrs. Crofton. It's
been on 'is mind awful--I'll take my Bible oath on that. But 'live and
let live,' that's my motter. We don't want to do anything unkind, but
we're in a fix ourselves--"

"I haven't got five hundred pounds," said Enid Crofton desperately;
"that's God's truth, Mrs. Piper."

To that assertion Madame Flora made no direct answer; she only observed,
in a quiet conversational tone, and speaking no longer in a whisper. "The
insurance gent told Piper as what 'e was not entirely satisfied, and 'e
said as 'e'd be pleased to see Piper any time if anything 'appened as
could throw further light on the Colonel's death. 'An extraordinary
occurrence'--that's what the insurance people's gentleman called it, Mrs.
Crofton--'an extraordinary occurrence.'"

And then Enid was stung into saying a very unwise thing. "The Coroner did
not think it an extraordinary occurrence," she said quietly.

"'E says sometimes as what 'e ought to give 'imself up and say what 'e
saw," went on Mrs. Piper with seeming irrelevance.

There was another brief pause: "If you 'aven't got five hundred pounds,
Modam, I take it the insurance money has not yet been paid, for it was a
matter of two thousand pounds--or so Piper understood from that party
what came down to make enquiries."

Enid Crofton looked at her torturer dumbly. She did not know what to
say--what to admit, and what to deny.

"Think it over," said the terrible little woman. "We're not in a 'urry to
a day or two. We'll give you a fortnight to find the money."

She put her hand, fat, yet claw-like, on Mrs. Crofton's shoulder.
"There's nothing to look so frightened about," she said a little gruffly.
"Piper and me aren't blackmailers. But we've got to look out for
ourselves, same as everybody else does. It's Piper's idea--that five
hundred pounds is. 'E says 'twould ease 'is conscience to carry on the
pore old Colonel's dog-breeding. As for me, I'd just as lief 'ave 'im in
a good job--what gentlefolk call 'a cushy job'--with a gentleman like
this Major Radmore seems to be. But there! Piper's just set on them nasty
dogs, and 'e's planned it all out."

"Five hun