Mrs.Bunting was still in the kitchen when there came a ring and a knock at the door - a now very familiar ring and knock."Joe thinks Daisy's home again by now!" she said, smiling to herself.
Before the door was well open, she heard Chandler's voice."Don't be scared this time, Mrs.Bunting!" But though not exactly scared, she did give a gasp of surprise.For there stood Joe, made up to represent a public-house loafer; and he looked the part to perfection, with his hair combed down raggedly over his forehead, his seedy-looking, ill-fitting, dirty clothes, and greenish-black pot hat.
"I haven't a minute," he said a little breathlessly."But I thought I'd just run in to know if Miss Daisy was safe home again.You got my telegram all right? I couldn't send no other kind of message.""She's not back yet.Her father hasn't been gone long after her."Then, struck by a look in his eyes, "Joe, what's the matter?" she asked quickly.
There came a thrill of suspense in her voice, her face grew drawn, while what little colour there was in it receded, leaving it very pale.
"Well," he said."Well, Mrs.Bunting, I've no business to say anything about it - but I will tell you !"He walked in and shut the door of the sitting-room carefully behind him."There's been another of 'em!" he whispered."But this time no one is to know anything about it - not for the present, I mean,"he corrected himself hastily."The Yard thinks we've got a clue -and a good clue, too, this time."
"But where - and how?" faltered Mrs.Bunting.
"Well, 'twas just a bit of luck being able to keep it dark for the present" - he still spoke in that stifled, hoarse whisper."The poor soul' was found dead on a bench on Primrose Hill.And just by chance 'twas one of our fellows saw the body first.He was on his way home, over Hampstead way.He knew where he'd be able to get an ambulance quick, and he made a very clever, secret job of it.I'spect he'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 Iknows 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 what they supposed that man who had gone into the public-house was really like.It was fortunate, indeed, that the lodger and that inquisitive young chap had never met face to face.
At last Mr.Sleuth's bell rang - a quiet little tinkle.But when she went up with his breakfast the lodger was not in his sitting-room.
