“Novels have been written about women like you,” said Strudwarden; “you have a perfectly criminal mind. Let’s come and look for a box.”

Two mornings later the conspirators stood gazing guiltily at a stout square box, connected with the gas-bracket by a length of indiarubber tubing.

“Not a sound,” said Elsie; “he never stirred; it must have been quite painless. All the same I feel rather horrid now it’s done.”

“The ghastly part has to come,” said Strudwarden, turning off the gas. “We’ll lift the lid slowly, and let the gas out by degrees. Swing the door to and fro to send a draught through the room.”