sible. And I couldn't help still questioning, even as he stood before me, whether he was in a compact with Copperhead Kate or not.

Yet I couldn't stand there all night third-degreeing that line of altogether unwilling witnesses. So I cut things short by swinging about to old Ezra Bartlett.

"I want to know what you did with that body?" I shot out at him straight from the shoulder.

"That what?" suddenly demanded Wendy Washburn, from the end of the line.

"Could I say a word or two?" almost as promptly requested Miss Ledwidge, who until this moment had remained both silent and passive.

"No," I told her. "It's this human house-rat I want to talk to!"

I repeated my question to Ezra Bartlett.

"But what body?" again interrupted Wendy Washburn, with an actual note of anxiety in his voice.

"There's a dead woman somewhere in this house," I informed him, "and I want to know what became of her!"

"A dead woman?" he echoed, peering along the line.

"Yes, and if I'm not greatly mistaken, that