'
'That's awfully good of you.'
'Besides, I'm not going to be left alone to-night until I can jump
into my little white bed and pull the clothes over my head. I'm
scared, I'm just boneless with fright. And I wouldn't go anywhere
near Lady Wetherby's doorstep with it.'
'Him.'
'It's no use, I can't think of it as "him." It's no good asking me
to.'
Bill frowned thoughtfully.
'I read a story once where two chappies wanted to get rid of a
body. They put it inside a fellow's piano.'
'You do seem to have read the most horrible sort of books.'
'I rather like a bit of blood with my fiction,' said Bill. 'What
about this piano scheme I read about?'
'People only have talking machines in these parts.'
'I read a story--'
'Let's try to forget the stories you've read. Suggest something of
your own.'
'Well, could we dissect the little chap?'
'Dissect him?'
'And bury him in the cellar, you know. Fellows do it to their
wives.'
Elizabeth shuddered.
'Try again,' she said.
'Well, the only other thing I can think of is to take him into the
woods and leave him there. It's a pity we can't let Lady Wetherby
know where he is; she seems rather keen on him. But I suppose the
main point is to get rid of him.'
'I know how we can do both. That's a good idea of yours about the
woods.
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