"An inquest! Are you mad?"
"When you have heard me I think that you will come to just the opposite conclusion. I think that I have hit upon a scheme which is really neat—neat in its simplicity." He rubbed his hands together, and showed his long yellow fangs in his enjoyment of his own astuteness.
Burt and Ezra leaned forward to listen, while the old man sank his voice to a whisper.
"They think that she is insane," he said.
"Yes."
"There's a small door in the boundary wall which leads out to the railway line."
"Well, what of that?"
"Suppose that door to be left open, would it be an impossible thing for a crazy woman to slip out through it, and to be run over by the ten o'clock express?"
"If she would only get in the way of it."
"You don't quite catch my idea yet. Suppose that the express ran over the dead body of a woman, would there be anything to prove afterwards that she was dead, and not alive at the time of the accident? Do you think that it would ever occur to any one's mind that the express ran over a dead body?"
"I see your meaning," said his son thoughtfully. "You would settle her, and then put her there."
"Of course. What could be more delightfully simple. Friend Burt here does his work; we carry her through the garden gate, and lay her on the darkest part of the rails. Then we miss her at the house. There is an alarm and a search. The gate is found open. We naturally go through with lanterns, and find her on the line. I don't think we need fear the coroner, or any one else then?"
"He's a sharp 'un, is the guv'nor," cried Burt, slapping his thigh enthusiastically. "It's the downiest lay I have heard this many a day."
"I believe you are the devil incarnate," said Ezra, looking at his father with a mixture of horror and of admiration.
