A window in the cottage was opened cautiously, and the head of Mrs. Pill, in a frilled nightcap of gigantic size, was thrust out.  “Is that you, Thomas, coming home at this late hour the worse for drink, you idle wretch, and me almost dead with want of sleep.”

“It’s a message from your husband, Mrs. Barnes,” said Jennings, signing to Twining to keep out of sight.  “Come and open the door, and I’ll tell you what has happened.”

“Oh, lor! is Thomas gone the way of flesh?” wailed Mrs. Barnes, formerly Pill.  “Come to the cottage door.”

“No.  Open this one,” said Jennings, who had his own reasons for this particular entrance being made use of.  “You know me—­”

“Mr. Jennings, as was in the case of my pore, dear, dead lady.  Of course I knows you, sir, and the fact as you are police makes me shudder to think as Thomas is jailed for drink.  Wait one moment, sir.  I’ll hurry on a petticoat and shawl.  How good of you to come, sir.”

When the window shut down, Jennings bent towards the inspector, who was crouching on the other side of the steps.  “This woman is innocent,” he whispered.  “She knows nothing, else she would not admit us so quickly.”

“It may be a blind, Jennings.  She may have gone to give the gang warning, you know.”

“I don’t know,” retorted the detective sharply.  “I am quite sure that Mrs. Barnes doesn’t even know her husband Thomas is one of the lot.  I don’t care if she does give warning either, if your surmise is correct.  All our men are round the house, and if any of the gang escape we can collar them.”

“That is supposing there isn’t another exit from the unfinished house,” muttered Twining, anxious to have the last word.

Mrs. Barnes appeared at the door in a brilliant red petticoat, a white woollen shawl, and the cap aforesaid.  Her feet were thrust into carpet slippers and she carried a candle.  “An’ it is good of you, sir, to come ’ere and tell me that Thomas is in jail, he being-”

“We can talk of that inside,” said the detective, pushing past her.  “I suppose you don’t mind my friend coming in.”

Mrs. Barnes almost dropped when she saw the second person, especially when she noted the uniform.  “It must be murder at least,” she wailed, almost dropping the candle in her fright; “lor! do tell me, sir, that Thomas have not murdered anyone.”

“Lead us down to the sitting-room and we’ll tell you, Mrs. Barnes.”

“I can’t do that, sir, Mr. Clancy may be ’ome any moment”

“Isn’t he at home now?”

“Bless you, no, Mr. Jennings, he being fond of goin’ out, not that he’s an old man, and why shouldn’t he enjoy hisself.  Not that a woman could wish for a better lodger, though he only bin ‘ere a week or so, he givin’ no trouble and havin’ a latch-key.”

“I want to see Mr. Clancy also,” said Jennings impatiently, while Twining turned on the electric light in the hall.  “Take us down to the basement.”