"Do you mean to say she is mad?"
"Doctor, I says nothing, being above scandal, But this I do say, as she ought to be mad if she ain't. That Moxton"--Mrs. Basket shivered like a jelly--"goes out night after night, leaving her shut up in that lonely 'ouse."
"Is the house lonely?"
"Mr. Cass, I won't deceive you. It's that lonely as graveyards is company to it. Myrtle Viller they calls it, and it's the larst 'ouse of the row as is spreading out in the brickfield direction. The other villers are unfinished, the contractor as was building them 'aving died with only Myrtle Viller ready to move into. His relatives is a-quarrelling so over his money as they've let the villers be for six months. Mr. and Mrs. Moxton took up 'ouse in the larst of 'em three months come next week, and they're the only pair as lives in that 'orrible lonely road."
As Mrs. Basket drew breath after this long speech and lifted the tray, Ellis put a leading question: "Don't they keep a servant?"
"No, they don't, sir, not as much as a work'us orfan. She is all alone in the 'ouse night after night, as I tells you, and it ain't no wonder as she keeps the carving-knife 'andy."
"Where does Moxton go so regularly?"
"Ah, Mr. Cass, where indeed? P'r'aps the perlice may know."
"Come now, Mrs. Basket, you have no ground for making such a statement."
"Oh, 'aven't I?" cried Mrs. Basket, indignantly. "Why, he's well orf and passes his days indoors doing nothing. 'Ow then does he earn his money? Why does he leave her alone? What's she doing with no servant and a carving-knife? No grounds!" Mrs. Basket waddled towards the door, nose in air, and paused there to deliver a last word: "I shouldn't be surprised at 'earing of a tragedy between 'em. Oh, that dratted bell! And at half-past eleven, too! Decent folk should be a-bed."