"Moxton! Moxton!" she answered impatiently. "Come, doctor, don't lose time! I am Mrs. Moxton. My husband has been murdered!"
[CHAPTER II]
THE WRITING IN BLOOD
The long arm of coincidence was startlingly apparent in this instance. Both men were so amazed at the terrible news fitting in so neatly, not only with the subject of conversation, but with Mrs. Basket's prophetic remark when the bell rang, that they looked at one another dumbfounded. Mrs. Moxton stared at their motionless figures with indignant eyes.
"Are you not coming?" she demanded vehemently, seizing the hand of Ellis. "Don't I tell you my husband is dead!"
"I am coming, Mrs. Moxton," said Ellis, hurriedly. "But if he is dead my presence will be useless. This is a case for the police."
If Mrs. Moxton was pale before she became even paler at this last remark, and, shrinking back, spread out her hands with a terrified gesture. "No, no, not the police! Why the police?"
"You say your husband has been murdered," cried Cass, with sudden suspicion; "therefore the police must be called in at once. Who murdered the man?"
"I don't know," murmured Mrs. Moxton. Then his imperious, suspicious tone seemed to stir her indignation. She threw back her head haughtily. "I don't know," she repeated deliberately. "My husband went out this evening. I sat up for him as he promised to return about midnight. Shortly after eleven"--here she glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece--"I heard a cry, and thinking something was wrong I ran to the door. There was someone moaning on the garden path. I went to see who it was, and found my husband bleeding to death from a wound in the back. He died a minute afterwards, and I came for you."
"How did you recognise your husband in the dark?"