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Page 20
But Chandler said nothing, and she turned and glanced at him. "Why,
you do look bad!" she exclaimed.
And, indeed, the young fellow did look bad--very bad indeed.
"I can't help it," he said, with a kind of gasp. "It was your
saying that about my telling you all about it that made me turn
queer. You see, this time I was one of the first there, and it
fairly turned me sick--that it did. Oh, it was too awful, Mrs.
Bunting! Don't talk of it."
He began gulping down the hot tea before it was well made.
She looked at him with sympathetic interest. "Why, Joe," she said,
"I never would have thought, with all the horrible sights you see,
that anything could upset you like that."
"This isn't like anything there's ever been before," he said. "And
then--then--oh, Mrs. Bunting, 'twas I that discovered the piece of
paper this time."
"Then it is true," she cried eagerly. "It is The Avenger's bit of
paper! Bunting always said it was. He never believed in that
practical joker."
"I did," said Chandler reluctantly. "You see, there are some queer
fellows even--even--" (he lowered his voice, and looked round him
as if the walls had ears)--"even in the Force, Mrs. Bunting, and
these murders have fair got on our nerves."
"No, never!" she said. "D'you think that a Bobby might do a thing
like that?"
He nodded impatiently, as if the question wasn't worth answering.
Then, "It was all along of that bit of paper and my finding it while
the poor soul was still warm,"--he shuddered--"that brought me out
West this morning. One of our bosses lives close by, in Prince
Albert Terrace, and I had to go and tell him all about it. They
never offered me a bit or a sup--I think they might have done that,
don't you, Mrs. Bunting?"
"Yes," she said absently. "Yes, I do think so."
"But, there, I don't know that I ought to say that," went on Chandler.
"He had me up in his dressing-room, and was very considerate-like to
me while I was telling him."
"Have a bit of something now?" she said suddenly.
"Oh, no, I couldn't eat anything," he said hastily. "I don't feel
as if I could ever eat anything any more."
"That'll only make you ill." Mrs. Bunting spoke rather crossly,
for she was a sensible woman. And to please her he took a bite
out of the slice of bread-and-butter she had cut for him.
"I expect you're right," he said. "And I've a goodish heavy day
in front of me. Been up since four, too--"
"Four?" she said. "Was it then they found--" she hesitated a
moment, and then said, "it?"
He nodded. "It was just a chance I was near by. If I'd been half
a minute sooner either I or the officer who found her must have
knocked up against that--that monster. But two or three people
do think they saw him slinking away."
"What was he like?" she asked curiously.
"Well, that's hard to answer. You see, there was such an awful
fog. But there's one thing they all agree about. He was carrying
a bag--"
"A bag?" repeated Mrs. Bunting, in a low voice. "Whatever sort of
bag might it have been, Joe?"
There had come across her--just right in her middle, like--such a
strange sensation, a curious kind of tremor, or fluttering.
She was at a loss to account for it.
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