The Pink Shop. Fergus Hume

her delicate looks, Audrey possessed a strong spirit, fully capable of controlling emotions, even when markedly powerful. The tragic and unexpected news of the murder shattered her nerves for the moment; but after the first shock of surprise she pushed her way hastily through the crowd, fully bent upon discovering exactly what had happened. Ralph, not yet thoroughly acquainted with her self-control under trying circumstances, followed immediately behind, urging her in whispers to go home and wait developments. To his importunities she turned a deaf ear, and addressed herself anxiously to the officer who guarded the door of the Turkish Shop. He naturally refused to reply to her questions.

      "But I am Lady Branwin's daughter," said Audrey, softly, so that the crowd might not hear, "and they say that Lady Branwin is dead."

      "Very sorry, miss," said the constable, not answering directly, "but my orders are to admit no one."

      Audrey's eyes began to glitter with ill-concealed anger, and Ralph hastily intervened.

      "Who is in charge of this case, officer?"

      "Inspector Lanton, sir."

      "Then pass my card into him, and--"

      "Are you a relative of the deceased, sir?"

      "No. But I am engaged to Miss Branwin here, and she--"

      "I'll send in the card," interrupted the policeman, quickly; then raised his voice to rebuke the crowd. "Keep back there; keep back!"

      Audrey remained silent, holding her feelings well under, while Ralph rapidly scribbled her name on his card. The constable knocked at the door and gave the message to the policeman who opened it. Then the door was closed again, and the lovers remained on the step anxiously waiting to see what would come of their application. The mob of people whispered and pointed, and looked askance at the young couple, evidently wondering why they were there. The position was highly unpleasant, and Audrey felt a great sense of relief when she was permitted to enter with her lover. In a moment they passed through the jealously-guarded door, and it was closed again the minute they were inside.

      "Wait here, please," said the constable who received them. "Inspector Lanton is upstairs with Madame Coralie, and will be down shortly."

      Audrey laid a detaining hand on his sleeve as he moved away. "Can you tell me if Lady Branwin--"

      "I am not allowed to answer any questions, miss," he replied, and went away in a stolid manner, as though the business in hand were an everyday occurrence.

      "Won't you sit down, darling?" whispered Ralph, tenderly. "You must keep up your strength, as there is much to be done."

      "My poor mother!" Audrey sank down on to a stool with a gasp. "Who could have killed her? How was she killed? When did the murder take place? Oh, it's too awful! Perhaps"--she looked pleadingly up into her lover's face--"perhaps it is not true."

      "It is true, Miss Branwin," said a soft voice before Ralph could reply; and out of a near alcove came a pretty girl with red eyes and a tear-stained face. "It's quite true and very terrible."

      "Who are you?" asked Audrey, lifting her white face. "How do you come to know my name?"

      "I am Badoura, the forewoman of Madame Coralie," was the reply, "and I saw you yesterday when you came here with your mother. Poor Lady Branwin! It is awful to think that she should have been strangled in--"

      "Strangled!" interrupted Audrey, with another gasp. "Who strangled her?"

      "No one knows," said Badoura, shuddering. "Madame found her dead in her bed when she went at seven this morning to see how she had passed the night. I heard her say that Lady Branwin had been strangled, and then she sent for the police at once. It's really dreadful," added the girl, mournfully, "as everything is upset, and we don't know what is going to happen. See here!" and she swept aside the pink silk curtain which was draped over the Moorish arch of the alcove whence she had emerged.

      Here Audrey beheld the other assistants huddled together on the divan, with tear-stained faces and terror-stricken looks. The catastrophe had disorganised the whole establishment, and the girls feared lest the scandal, which certainly would arise from the fact of the murder, might result in the closing of the shop. This was a very probable contingency indeed, and none of them could face with equanimity the dismal prospect of losing her employment. They had been driven like sheep into the alcove by the police, and waited developments with strained nerves. As yet not one of the three had been examined.

      Badoura, having full possession of her senses, was the most composed, and seemed glad to find someone to talk to, less upset than her three friends, "It will ruin Madame's business," she wailed.

      "Please tell us exactly what happened," said Ralph, who was anxious to get at the facts of the case.

      "There's nothing to tell, sir. Lady Branwin came with this young lady yesterday about five, and retired to a back bedroom on the ground floor almost immediately with Madame, who wished to see what could be done by way of treatment. Lady Branwin had not even made up her mind to stop; but after Madame had given her opinion she decided to remain for the night, and Madame told you, Miss Branwin, that such was the case, when--"

      "When I called here on my way to the theatre," finished Audrey, whose face was colourless but wonderfully composed. "I remember. When did Madame Coralie last see my mother?"

      "Shortly before eight o'clock, miss. She left her quite comfortable for the night after she had taken a light supper. We all went to bed about nine, as we were all so tired with a busy day. Then at seven this morning Madame came to me while I was tidying up the shop, and told me that Lady Branwin was dead. She could scarcely speak." Badoura paused for a moment, then added, as an after-thought: "The window was open."

      "The window?" repeated Ralph, fastening his eyes on her face searchingly.

      "The window of the back bedroom on the ground floor," explained the girl, readily. "It looks out on to a closed court, which has a high wall round it."

      "Then you think that the assassin entered and left by the window?"

      "I didn't say that, for I do not know," replied Badoura, quickly. "All Madame said was that the bedroom window was open, although she had closed it on the previous night. But even if the assassin did get into the room in that way, I don't see how he could leave the court. The door in the wall of the court is locked, and the key is lost."

      "He could climb over the wall, perhaps?" suggested Audrey, thoughtfully.

      "It's a difficult, smooth wall to climb, miss."

      "What is on the other side of the wall?" asked Shawe, sharply.

      "A narrow alley, which runs into the High Street."

      "Then if the assassin could get over the wall, he could easily escape?"

      "Oh, yes, sir; but the wall is difficult to climb."

      "Is there no other entrance into the court?"

      "Only from the house. There is a door which is kept locked, as no one ever goes into the court at the back. Besides, no one was in the house last night but myself, the three girls, Madame, Lady Branwin and a lady customer."

      "What is her name?"

      "I can't tell you," said Badoura, hesitating. "Only Madame knows; as many ladies don't care to give their names, save to Madame, when under treatment."

      "Tell me," said Ralph, waiving this point for the time being, "you call the assassin 'he.' What reason have you to believe that a man strangled Lady Branwin?"

      Badoura looked surprised. "I only think so, sir, as, of course, I know nothing. But surely, sir, only a man would have the strength to strangle?"

      Audrey shook her head. "A strong woman could do that also. Especially as my mother was stout and rather apoplectic. Very little pressure on her throat would have killed her, I am certain. And then--"

      Here Audrey's conjectures were cut short by the entrance of a tall, soldierly-looking