Free The Lodger by Marie Belloc Lowndes

extraordinary series of crimes which
are amazing, and, indeed, staggering not only London, hut the whole
civilised world, and which would seem to be the work of some
woman-hating teetotal fanatic. Since yesterday morning, when the
last of these dastardly murders was committed, no reliable clue to
the perpetrator, or perpetrators, has been obtained, though several
arrests were made in the course of the day. In every case, however,
those arrested were able to prove a satisfactory alibi."
      And then, a little lower down
      "The excitement grows and grows. It is not too much
to say that even a stranger to London would know that something
very unusual was in the air. As for the place where the murder was
committed last night - "
      "Last night!" thought Mrs. Bunting, startled; and
then she realised that "last night," in this connection, meant the
night before last.
      She began the sentence again:
      "As for the place where the murder was committed
last night, all approaches to it were still blocked up to a late
hour by hundreds of onlookers, though, of course, nothing now
remains in the way of traces of the tragedy."
      Slowly and carefully Mrs. Bunting folded the paper
up again in its original creases, and then she stooped and put it
back down on the mat where she had found it. She then turned out
the gas, and going back into bed she lay down by her still sleeping
husband.
      "Anything the matter?" Bunting murmured, and stirred
uneasily. "Anything the matter, Ellen?"
      She answered in a whisper, a whisper thrilling with
a strange gladness, "No, nothing, Bunting - nothing the matter! Go
to sleep again, my dear."
      They got up an hour later, both in a happy, cheerful
mood. Bunting rejoiced at the thought of his daughter's coming, and
even Daisy's stepmother told herself that it would be pleasant
having the girl about the house to help her a bit.
      About ten o'clock Bunting went out to do some
shopping. He brought back with him a nice little bit of pork for
Daisy's dinner, and three mince-pies. He even remembered to get
some apples for the sauce.

CHAPTER VII
       J ust as twelve
was striking a four-wheeler drew up to the gate.
      It brought Daisy - pink-cheeked, excited,
laughing-eyed Daisy - a sight to gladden any father's heart.
      "Old Aunt said I was to have a cab if the weather
was bad," she cried out joyously.
      There was a bit of a wrangle over the fare. King's
Cross, as all the world knows, is nothing like two miles from the
Marylebone Road, but the man clamoured for one and sixpence, and
hinted darkly that he had done the young lady a favour in bringing
her at all.
      While he and Bunting were having words, Daisy,
leaving them to it, walked up the flagged path to the door where
her stepmother was awaiting her.
      As they were exchanging a rather frigid kiss,
indeed, 'twas a mere peck on Mrs. Bunting's part, there fell, with
startling suddenness, loud cries on the still, cold air. Long-drawn
and wailing, they sounded strangely sad as they rose and fell
across the distant roar of traffic in the Edgware Road.
      "What's that?" exclaimed Bunting wonderingly. "Why,
whatever's that?"
      The cabman lowered his voice. "Them's 'a-crying out
that 'orrible affair at King's Cross. He's done for two of 'em this
time! That's what I meant when I said I might 'a got a better fare.
I wouldn't say nothink before little missy there, but folk 'ave
been coming from all over London the last five or six hours; plenty
of toffs, too - but there, there's nothing to see now!"
      "What? Another woman murdered last night?"
      Bunting felt tremendously thrilled. What had the
five thousand constables been about to let such a dreadful thing
happen?
      The cabman stared at him, surprised. "Two of 'em, I
tell yer - within a few yards of one another. He 'ave - got a nerve
- But, of course, they was drunk. He are got a down on the
drink!"
      "Have they caught him?" asked Bunting
perfunctorily.
      "Lord, no!