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 cab never came. I wasn't surprised at that—I could see from the windows that the snow was awful. And Philip didn't come—I was glad he didn't. And of course, none of them came back—I sat by this fire all night, all alone!"

Mrs. Patello made a moan of commiseration; Mr. Patello shook his head. And Mattie went on with her story.

"The postman managed to get through, on his pony, this morning," she said. "I told him about it, and I sent that telegram home. I'd have set off home myself there and then, but I hadn't enough money. Then, later on, a telegram came asking about Mr. Levigne, and I sent a reply to it. But nobody else came, and I heard nothing of Aunt Janet, or Philip, or Mr. Levigne. Then during the afternoon I saw a man struggling through the snow towards Netherwell, and I managed to get out to the gate to him and asked him to tell the police about those three. And after that—well, there was nothing happened until I heard you knock!"

Wedgwood persuaded Mrs. Patello and her daughter to go to bed; when they had followed his advice he turned to Mr. Patello. But Mr. Patello, wearied out, had fallen fast asleep on an old couch drawn up by the fireside, and the detective, throwing a rug over him, made up the