They had arrived in Brian’s sitting-room by this time, and Madge sank into a chair, while Calton, anxious to begin the search, hinted to Mrs. Sampson that she could go.

“I’m departin’, sir,” piped the cricket, with a sad shake of her head, as she opened the door; “knowin’, as I do, as ’e’s as innocent as an unborn babe, an’ to think of me ‘avin’ told that ’orrid pusson who ’ad no regard for the truth all about ’im as is now in a cold cell, not as what the weather ain’t warm, an’ ’e won’t want a fire as long as they allows ’im blankets.”

“What did you tell him?” asked Calton, sharply.

“Ah! you may well say that,” lamented Mrs. Sampson, rolling her dingy handkerchief into a ball, and dabbing at her red-rimmed eyes, which presented quite a bacchanalian appearance, due, be it said in justice, to grief, not to liquor. “‘Avin’ bin beguiled by that serping in light clothes as wanted to know if ’e allays come ’ome afore twelve, which I said ’e was in the ‘abit of doin’, tho’, to be sure, ’e did sometimes use ’is latch-key.”

“The night of the murder, for instance.”

“Oh! don’t say that, sir,” said Mrs. Sampson, with a terrified crackle.  “Me bein’ weak an’ ailin’, tho’ comin’ of a strong family, as allays lived to a good age, thro’ bein’ in the ‘abit of wearin’ flannels, which my mother’s father thought better nor a-spilin’ the inside with chemistry.”

“Clever man, that detective,” murmured Calton to himself.  “He got out of her by strategy what he never would have done by force.  It’s a strong piece of evidence against Fitzgerald, but it does not matter much if he can prove an alibi.  You’ll likely be called as a witness for the prosecution,” he said aloud.

“Me, sir!” squeaked Mrs. Sampson, trembling violently, and thereby producing a subdued rustle, as of wind in the trees.  “As I’ve never bin in the court, ’cept the time as father tooked me for a treat, to ’ear a murder, which there’s no denyin’ is as good as a play, ‘e bein’ ’ung, ‘avin’ ’it ’is wife over the ’ead with the poker when she weren’t lookin’, and a-berryin’ ’er corpse in a back garding, without even a stone to mark the place, let alone a line from the Psalms and a remuneration of ’er virtues.”

“Well, well,” said Calton, rather impatiently, as he opened the door for her, “leave us for a short time, there’s a good soul.  Miss Frettlby and I want to rest, and we will ring for you when we are going.”

“Thank you, sir,” said the lachrymose landlady, “an’ I ’opes they won’t ’ang ‘im, which is sich a choky way of dyin’; but in life we are in death,” she went on, rather incoherently, “as is well known to them as ‘as diseases, an’ may be corpsed at any minute, and as—­”

Here Calton, unable to restrain his impatience any longer, shut the door, and they heard Mrs. Sampson’s shrill voice and subdued cracklings die away in the distance.

“Now then,” he said, “now that we have got rid of that woman and her tongue, where are we to begin?”