"But how do you know that Mr. Strode would swindle?"
"Because he was a man with no moral principles," retorted Mr. Hill; "your mother here will tell you the same."
"I did not like Mr. Strode," said Mrs. Hill calmly; "he was not what I call a good man. Eva takes after Lady Jane, who was always a delightful friend to me. I was glad to hear you were engaged to the dear girl, Allen," she added, and patted his hand.
"It is strange that your observation and Eva's dream should agree."
"Pardon me," said Mr. Hill, rising briskly, "they do not agree. I suggested just now that Strode might be followed by his Cape Town enemies and arrested for swindling. Eva dreamed that he was dead."
"Then you don't agree with her dream?" asked Allen, puzzled.
"Interesting, I admit; but--oh no"--Hill shrugged his shoulders--"Strode can look after himself. Whosoever is killed, he will be safe enough. I never knew a man possessed of such infernal ingenuity. Well, are you satisfied? If not, ask me more, and I'll explain what I can. Ah, by the way, there's Wasp coming up the garden." Hill threw open the window and hailed the policeman. "I asked Wasp to come and see me, Allen, whenever he had an interesting case to report. I intend to write a volume on the physiology of the criminal classes. Probably Wasp, wishing to earn an honest penny, has come to tell me of some paltry crime not worth expending five shillings on--that's his price. Ah, Wasp, what is it?"
The policeman, a stout little man, saluted. "Death, sir."
"How interesting," said Mr. Hill, rubbing his hands; "this is indeed news worth five shillings. Death?"
"Murder."