This was all theory, but Jennings could deduce no other explanation from the evidence he had collected.  He determined to search the unfinished house, since Caranby had given him permission, and also to make an inspection of Rose Cottage, though how he was to enter on a plausible excuse he did not know.  But Fate gave him a chance which he was far from expecting.  On arriving at the “Shrine of the Muses” he was informed that Miss Saxon had gone to Rexton.  This was natural enough, since she owned the cottage, but Jennings was inclined to suspect Juliet from her refusal to marry Cuthbert or to explain her reason, and saw something suspicious in all she did.  He therefore took the underground railway at once to Rexton, and, alighting at the station, went to Crooked Lane through the by-path, which ran through the small wood of pines.  On looking at the cottage he saw that the windows were open, that carpets were spread on the lawn, and that the door was ajar.  It seemed that Mrs. Pill was indulging in the spring cleaning alluded to by Susan Grant.

At the door Jennings met Mrs. Pill herself, with her arms bare and a large coarse apron protecting her dress.  She was dusty and untidy and cross.  Nor did her temper grow better when she saw the detective, whom she recognized as having been present at the inquest.

“Whyever ’ave you come ’ere, sir?” asked she.  “I’m sure there ain’t no more corpses for you to discover.”

“I wish to see Miss Saxon.  I was told she was here.”

“Well, she is,” admitted Mrs. Pill, placing her red arms akimbo, “not as I feel bound to tell it, me not being in the witness-box.  She ‘ave come to see me about my rent.  An’ you, sir?”

“I wish to speak to Miss Saxon,” said Jennings patiently.

Mrs. Pill rubbed her nose and grumbled.  “She’s up in the attics,” said she, “lookin’ at some dresses left by pore Miss Loach, and there ain’t a room in the ’ouse fit to let you sit down in, by reason of no chairs being about.  ’Ave you come to tell me who killed mistress?”

“No!  I don’t think the assassin will ever be discovered.”

“Ah, well.  We’re all grass,” wailed Mrs. Pill; “but if you wish to see Miss Saxon, see her you will.  Come this way to the lower room, an’ I’ll go up to the attics.”

“Let me go, too, and it will save Miss Saxon coming down,” said Jennings, wishing to take Juliet unawares.

“Ah, now you speaks sense.  Legs is legs when stairs are about, whatever you may say,” said Mrs. Pill, leading the way, “an’ you’ll excuse me, Mr. Policeman, if I don’t stop, me ‘avin’ a lot of work to do, as Susan’s gone and Geraldine with ’er, not to speak of my ‘usbin’ that is to be, he havin’ gone to see Mrs. Herne, drat her!”

“Why has he gone to see Mrs. Herne?” asked Jennings quickly.

“Arsk me another,” said the cook querulously, “he’s a secret one is Thomas Barnes, whatever you may say.  He comes and he goes and makes money by ’is doin’s, whatever they may be.  For not a word do I ’ear of ’is pranks.  I’ve a good mind to remain Pill to the end of my days, seein’ as he keeps secrets.”