II

Mrs. Price Ridley was among the last to hear the news.

A rich and dictatorial widow, she lived in a large house next door to thevicarage. Her informant was her little maid Clara.

“A woman, you say, Clara? Found dead on Colonel Bantry’s hearthrug?”

“Yes, mum. And they say, mum, as she hadn’t anything on at all, mum,not a stitch!”

“That will do, Clara. It is not necessary to go into details.”

“No, mum, and they say, mum, that at first they thought it was Mr.

Blake’s young lady—what comes down for the weekends with ’im to Mr.

Booker’s new ’ouse. But now they say it’s quite a different young lady. Andthe fishmonger’s young man, he says he’d never have believed it of Col-onel Bantry—not with him handing round the plate on Sundays and all.”

“There is a lot of wickedness in the world, Clara,” said Mrs. Price Ridley.

“Let this be a warning to you.”

“Yes, mum. Mother, she never will let me take a place where there’s agentleman in the ’ouse.”

“That will do, Clara,” said Mrs. Price Ridley.