silly slut. Up y' go, or----" evidently a fist was raised at this point.

"She shan't," growled Narby, who seemed to have more decent feeling than his wife. "Here, stand aside!"

"If y' break th' door, it means poun's an' poun's," screamed the virago. The listening man heard a crash, and an angry ejaculation from Mrs. Narby at the destruction of her property. Then came a wild cry from Elspeth, an oath from the landlord, and finally a panic-stricken silence. With his fears again knocking at his heart, Herries jumped up, and hurriedly slipped into his trousers. Scarcely were they on, before Narby burst into the room, white-faced and savage. Behind, came his wife, bellowing like a fury of the Revolution. Elspeth in the meanwhile had fainted in the passage.

"You killed him!" shouted Narby fiercely, running towards Herries, and flung him like a feather on the bed.

"Killed--killed--whom?" gasped the young man, bursting into a cold perspiration.

"The gent as came last night. He's lying next door with his throat slit, you murdering devil!"

"Oh!" shivered Herries, "the razor."

"Your razor!"

"It's not mine. Let me up," and he struggled to rise.

"No. You stop here, until I send for the police. 'Liza!--ah would you?"

Herries, realizing his dreadful position, had begun to resist violently, and Narby held him down with brawny hands. As the two swung in close grips on the bed, there was a tinkling sound, and a shout from Mrs. Narby, who was red-faced and furious.

"Th' key,--th' blessed key," she screeched, picking it up from the floor, whence it had fallen off the bed. "Oh, the bloomin' Jack th' Ripper cove. He's ruined th' cussed 'ouse."

"It's a lie--a lie," breathed Herries, weakly.

Narby, with his knee on the other's chest, laughed grimly. "You'll have to prove that to a jury, my lad. The razor,--the key of the next room,--the--the--why here," he broke off to snatch at the stained shirt-sleeve, "more blood, you reptile," and he shook the young man with unrestrained anger.

"'Ow! 'Ow! 'Ow!" Mrs. Narby began to exhibit symptoms of hysteria, "he killed the pore gent. Pope,--Pope,--me darlin' boy. 'Elp! 'Elp."

 Prev. P 17/256 next