"As happy as a grumbler like Anne could be. For there is no denying, poor soul, that she was a grumbler," ended the little old lady regretfully.
"What was your brother's name, ma'am?" said Dredge, producing his note-book.
"Gabriel Monk, sir. He was a bachelor, and lived at The Lodge, Burwain. I kept house for him with Anne as our servant until he died. Then Anne came here and I took a small cottage in the village, where I now am."
"And The Lodge?" asked Dredge, somewhat irrelevantly I thought.
"His brother, Walter Monk, inherited The Lodge and the money of his deceased relative. He lives there now with my niece."
"Oh!" The inspector here saw a point which in my opinion he ought to have noticed before. "Then Gabriel Monk was not exactly your brother?"
"I called him so, because I looked after his house for him, but he really was not, sir."
"Your brother-in-law, then?"
"Not even that, Mr. Inspector. Let me explain. My sister married Walter Monk, the brother of Gabriel, and became a widower with one child, a girl. Gabriel took Gertrude, the girl, to live with him, when she was a small child, and asked me to take charge of her. I did so, and therefore fell into the habit of calling Gabriel my brother; but, as you see, he was no relation. And pardon me, Mr. Inspector, but I do not see what all this private business has to do with the murder of Anne Caldershaw."
Dredge snapped the elastic band on his closed pocket-book. "I wish to learn all I can about the dead woman's past," he said gruffly, "and so ask you to tell me all you know."