"
"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.
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