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.
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