"It was taken from a dead hand."
"From the hand of Rufus. Is he dead? Am I free? Oh, great heavens, am I free?" and Mrs. Baldwin clapped her hands hysterically.
"No. It was taken from the hands of the woman who was killed at Ajax Villa. Evidently the man who wore it----"
"Rufus," whispered Mrs. Baldwin----
"Had a struggle with his victim. She might have seen the blow coming, and putting out her hand to ward it off, must have clutched the locket as it hung to the watch-chain."
"Rufus wore it on his watch-chain," said Mrs. Baldwin; "it is his locket. I gave it to him. He is a burglar. Now he is a murderer. He will come and kill me. Where's the pistol?" and she fumbled under the sofa-pillow, grey with fear.
"We don't know that he's a murderer yet," said Tracey soothingly; "you go slow, ma'am."
"I tell you if that locket was found in the dead woman's hand, Rufus killed her," said Mrs. Baldwin, crushing her hands together.
"What is Rufus like in looks?" asked Tracey.
"Fat and red-faced, with grey hair. Always smiling--always smiling--a kind-looking man--with a black heart. A criminal--a brute, a----"