The woman would have objected again, but from the stern expression on her visitors’ faces she judged that it would be wiser to obey.  She descended, candle in hand, turning on the lights as she went down.  In the sitting-room she paused and faced the detective.  “Do tell me what’s wrong, sir?” she asked.  “Thomas is a fool, but we’re newly wed and I shouldn’t like anything to ’appen to ’im, though he do take fondly-like to the bottle.”

“When did Thomas go out?”

“At eight, and Mr. Clancy at nine, though Mr. Clancy havin’ a latch-key, don’t give me trouble lettin’ him in which Thomas does.”

“Ah!” said Jennings, with a side-glance at the inspector, “so your husband goes out often?”

“He do, sir.  Three times a week.  I ’ave tried to break ’im of these larky ’abits but he won’t do what I arsks him.  I wish I’d stopped at bein’ Pill,” wailed Mrs. Barnes, wiping her eyes.  “An’ if Thomas is drunk and bail bein’ required—­”

“I don’t know if your husband is drunk or sober,” interrupted Jennings.  “We are on a different errand.  Tell me, Mrs. Barnes, do you know if Miss Loach had a secret entrance to this room?”

“Lor no, sir,” cried the woman, casting a surprised glance round, “whatever would she ’ave that for, pore dear?”

“The furniture is oddly placed,” said Twining.

And indeed it was.  Tables and chairs and sofa were ranged in two lines on either side of the room, leaving the middle portion bare.  The floor was covered with a Turkey carpet down the centre, but the sides of the floor were without covering.  Mrs. Barnes explained this.

“Miss Loach liked to ’ave things straight this way for the night, bein’ of tidy ‘abits.  She thought the floor bein’ clear left the ’ousemaid, who was Geraldine, room to sweep and dust thoroughly.  Mr. Clancy ’ave the same fancy, though being a man as tidy as ever was.”

“Strange Mr. Clancy should be tidy,” said Jennings drily.  “He certainly is not so in his dress.  Now the best thing you can do, Mrs. Barnes, is to go to bed.”

“An’ leave you ’ere,” screeched the cook indignantly.  “Why, whatever would Mr. Clancy say, he being respectable.”

“Very good then, you can stop here.  Stand on one side, Twining, and you, Mrs. Barnes.  Both of you stand on the bare floor near the wall.”

Considerably surprised, Mrs. Barnes did as she was told, and uttered a cry when she saw the floor begin to move.  Jennings, who was pressing a button at the end of the room, stopped.  “Take her upstairs, Twining.  She will alarm the gang!”

“Alarm who?” cried the cook, struggling with the inspector.  “Whatever do you mean?  Shame—­shame to ’old a defenceless lady.  ’Elp!”

But her cries for help were unheeded.  Twining bore her up the stairs and summoned one of his men.  In a few minutes Mrs. Barnes was safely locked up in her own bedroom in the cottage, a prey to terrors.  Poor woman, being innocent, she could not understand the meaning of this midnight visit, nor indeed the mysterious moving of the floor.  It had never happened so before within her recollection.