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 husband never had; I never had; my sister Mrs. Clagne never had. Nobody had!"

"Are you sure your sister Mrs. Clagne never had?" asked Wedgwood.

"I'm sure of this, Mr. Wedgwood—my sister Mrs. Clagne was visiting us at Tooting not so very long ago, and stayed with us some days, and she didn't know of it then! She may know of it now, for she gets a London paper down there, regular, and I'm sure there was plenty about this girl in every paper yesterday! But she didn't know when she was at Tooting or she'd have mentioned the matter to me, of course."

"Did Mrs. Clagne ever mention Mr. John Wraypoole to you?" asked Wedgwood, permitting himself a direct question. "I mean—when she was staying with you?"

Mrs. Patello looked her astonishment, and the detective watching her narrowly, came to the conclusion that it was genuine.

"John Wraypoole? The man that was murdered? Never! How should my sister know anything about him?" she exclaimed. "Of course she didn't!"

"No 'of course' about it, Mrs. Patello!" retorted Wedgwood. "Your sister, I understand, is housekeeper to Mr. Philip Mortover at Mortover Grange, near Netherwell. Now