He tugged at the overly large hooded sweatshirt, which she unzipped and let fall to the ground. The constable, Sharples, is in my pay. Mr. He refrained from pointing out that the case would be exactly the same if she was not a lady. The necessity which had previously existed of leaving the ghastly evidence of the murderous deed undisturbed,—the presence of the mangled corpse,—the bustle of the inquest, at which her attendance was required,—all these circumstances produced a harrowing effect upon the young girl's imagination. "Vell, vell," growled Sharples, after he had listened to the other's remonstrances, "it shall be done. We’ve done nothing to deserve it. “I knew Mr.
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