" "Say the word, and I'm mum," returned the executioner. "I feel like work," he lied. But for the next few days he avoided Cheveney like the plague. One always dreamed of this and never believed it. She went to the table under the end window at which she had been accustomed to work, and found it swept and garnished with full bottles of re-agents. What else was there lurked in shadows and deep places; if in some mood of reverie it came out into the light, it was presently overwhelmed and hustled back again into hiding. Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. "I am very wicked," she said.
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