"On the other hand," Mr. Basket continued, "if we take the darker
view, that this man had entered the fish-pond not for purposes of
rescue, but--dreadful thought--to hold the victim under water, why
should he have exposed himself to detection by coming to the theatre?
Why, in fine, should he desire to communicate at all with me?"
"Perhaps," suggested Mrs. Basket, who had been listening while she
knitted, "his conscience pricked him."
"My dear Maria!" began her husband testily. But at this moment the
house rang with an alarm upon the front-door bell.
The poor lady stood up fluttering, white in the face.
"You must answer it, Elihu! I couldn't, not if you was to offer me
twice the reward at this moment--and him standing there, perhaps, or
his ghost, like Peter out of prison!"
But their visitor proved to be the Chief Constable himself. He, too,
was pale with excitement, and he held in his hand a copy of the
Sherborne _Mercury_.
"Your friend--" he began.
"Well?"
"He is dead. The mystery is not, indeed, explained, but the issue of
it appears too certain. I was walking along old Town Street when the
Sherborne Rider came along. He gave me my copy, and see here!"--The
Chief Constable spread the paper under the lamp and pointed to this
paragraph:
"_Operations off Boulogne_. By advices received from Admiral
Lord Keith, the first experiment made with the new engines of
destruction (of which so much was hoped) against the vessels
moored off Boulogne pier, has not resulted in an unqualified
success.
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