“I know,” put in Mr. Ludgrove. “I was out about that time myself. I always go for a walk after supper, rain or fine; it’s the only chance of exercise I get.”

“Yes, I know you do,” agreed Mr. Copperdock. “I often wonder you don’t catch your death of cold. Well, the policeman calls up the ambulance, and they gets poor Jim round to St. Martha’s. There they very soon finds out what’s the matter. There’s a great long knife, in shape rather like a butcher’s skewer, but without a handle, sticking into him. And the point’s right through his heart.”

Mr. Copperdock paused dramatically. There was no doubt that he was thoroughly enjoying himself, and Mr. Ludgrove was far too good a listener to interrupt him.