"Excuse me," he said politely, one hand in his pocket wherein lay an important legal document, "but are you Mrs. Catherine Wilson?"
"Yes," said the poisoner, who feared no one after her Old Bailey triumph. "What do you want with me?"
"I am a police officer," he answered, producing the paper, "and I must ask you to accompany me to the station. I have a warrant for your arrest on a charge of murder."
"Murder?" she gasped, terrified for a moment. Then she laughed. "Whose murder?" She might well ask that question seeing that there were several with which she could have been charged.
"That of Mrs. Soames, of 27 Alfred Street, Bedford Square," he answered, glancing at the warrant.
The police had not been idle during that long remand following the mysterious poisoning of Mrs. Connell. They had delved completely into Catherine Wilson's past, and when they had compiled a list of her crimes the authorities decided that they would arrest her again and charge her with Mrs. Soames's death. They could have added others, but, knowing with whom they were dealing, they thought it better to keep the cases of Mr. Mawer and Mrs. Atkinson in reserve. Should her first trial for murder result in acquittal they would charge her with having caused the death of Mrs. Atkinson, and so on, until they had removed this danger to society.
But the prosecution made no mistake this time, and Catherine Wilson was in the coils from the moment she listened to the outline of the case against her at the Police Court.
Further facts were brought forward at the Old Bailey, and so skilfully did the authorities present their case that when the jury returned their verdict of guilty, and Mr. Justice Byles was passing sentence, he could say: "The result upon my mind is that I have no more doubt that you committed the crime than if I had seen it committed with my own eyes."
With a smile of contempt the poisoner left the dock and when she was led forth to die in public, and twenty thousand persons watched her last moments, she presented the same cool, sneering manner, absolutely indifferent to her fate, quite unafraid of death, and without a word of sorrow or repentance for her terrible crimes.