"To speak to me!" repeated the minister, whose face looked emaciated and painfully white. "Why! what have I to do with it?"
"Don't you know who has been murdered?" asked Chard, with a keen glance.
"No; how should I? My mother was in the town just now, and returned with a story of some crime having been committed. She is rather deaf, and heard no details. I was coming to the police-office to make inquiries."
"I will answer all your inquiries now, sir. Please take me within doors."
"But who are you?" asked Johnson, who did not recognize the officer.
"Inspector Chard, of the Poldew police-office. I come to ask you a few questions."
"About what?" said Johnson, conducting the inspector into the study.
"About the dead woman."
"Ah!" Johnson dropped into his chair with a gasp. "A woman! The victim, then, is a woman?" He looked swiftly at the stern police officer, and passed his tongue over his dry lips. "What questions can I answer? I know nothing of this poor soul."
"Pardon me, sir, but I think that is not quite correct," replied the inspector, dryly. Then, with an observant eye, "The dead woman is, I believe, a native girl who----"