He's an old hand... we've
known him for a receiver for years!
"Who is it?" asked the Chief, "not one of my little friends, I
suppose, eh, Marigold!"
"Dear me, no, sir," answered Mr. Marigold, chuckling, "it's one
of old Mackwayte's music-hall pals, name o' Barney!"
CHAPTER V. THE MURDER AT SEVEN KINGS
"This is Mrs. Chugg, sir," said Mr. Marigold, "the charwoman who
found the body!"
The Chief and Desmond stood at the detective's side in the
Mackwaytes' little dining-room. The room was in considerable
disorder. There was a litter of paper, empty bottles, overturned
cruets and other debris on the floor, evidence of the
thoroughness with which the burglar had overhauled the cheap
fumed oak sideboard which stood against the wall with doors and
drawers open. In the corner, the little roll-top desk showed a
great gash in the wood round the lock where it had been forced.
The remains of a meal still stood on the table.
Mrs. Chugg, a diminutive, white-haired, bespectacled woman in a
rusty black cape and skirt, was enthroned in the midst of this
scene of desolation. She sat in an armchair by the fire, her
hands in her lap, obviously supremely content with the position
of importance she enjoyed. At the sound of Mr. Marigold's voice,
she bobbed up and regarded the newcomers with the air of a
tragedy queen.
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