Flynn’s Weekly Detective Fiction. Vol. 27, No. 2, September 24, 1927

True Kate used to drop in to see Mrs. Flayhoe, hostess of the Hole in the Wall, but it was done discreetly and without offense to the ladies in the Mayfied Cottages.

And Mrs. Thomas kept her irritation in check, though Kate was no model servant. She was careless and sloppy, untidy and unattractive.

This state of affairs could not last long, and Mrs. Thomas gave Kate notice to leave at the end of February. This was the first or second of the month.

Kate heard her dismissal in silence, but there was a look in her oblique eyes which sent a stab of apprehension through Mrs. Thomas’s heart, none too strong. And there had been a twitch to Kate’s fingers as she crumpled up the apron in them that had been horridly suggestive of violence.

At night in her soft bed Mrs. Thomas lay awake, beset with unaccountable fears. She made up her mind to get some one to stay with her, but all to whom she applied for this support had excuses and reasons for not coming.

Finally she got a mother and daughter to lodge with her for a fortnight, and no doubt fortified by their presence gave expression to her feelings toward the inhabitant of the kitchen. Her lodgers stayed their appointed time and then left.

Mrs. Thomas was now in a panic. She sent a frantic appeal to her friends to come and share her house, but none would come. It was only one more of the poor dear’s odd ways. Why this desire for company all of a sudden?

Meanwhile Kate went about her business, marketing, dusting, sweeping, washing and ironing, getting her clothes ready to leave.

On February 25 she went to see a friend of hers or, more correctly, a woman who made her bonnets, Mary Durden a straw hat weaver, and in the course of trying on a bonnet, told her she was soon going to Birmingham to see about some property an aunt had left her — furniture, a gold watch and chain, jewelry, et cetera.

Like a Beacon Light

“You ain’t ’arf lucky!” sighed Mary Durden. “Wish some aunt of mine ’ud pop off and leave me summat nice.”

It was probably to hear more about this legacy that on Friday, the twenty-eighth, the day set for her leaving, Kate humbly begged Mrs. Thomas to let her stay on a few days longer. She hinted that Friday was a bad day to start on a journey or make a change.

Her mistress hesitated, then weakly agreed. She knew of no other servant she could get at once, and well — yes — Kate could stay.

You may be sure that Miss Ives next door heard rumors of Mrs. Thomas’s Kate leaving and was surprised to see her still there on Saturday, March 1. But there she was, and there was Mrs. Thomas in the garden attending to her plants.

On Sunday mistress and maid went different ways. Mrs. Thomas rustling in her silk gown went in the morning to church.

Kate went out in the afternoon ostensibly to see her child, whom she really adored, but fell by the wayside. She dropped into a “pub” and laughed and chatted with several men. What there was in this woman to attract men, as she undoubtedly did, no one can definitely say. She was in many ways repellant, yet this repelling quality which to some was a signal of danger, was to others a veritable beacon light to destruction.

The Sound Next Door

She was anything but good-looking or well dressed, there was nothing feminine about her, she had a forbidding aura of sullen darkness. Yet on occasions she could laugh and joke, she was a skilled actress of emotions she was far from feeling, and a glib liar. She could lie her way out of most traps. An extraordinary primitive passionate creature of no apparent charm she awakened in the men with whom she came in contact an almost instantaneous passion.

The afternoon sped on. When Kate got back to her kitchen, she found Mrs. Thomas much annoyed, all dressed to go to evening service. Mrs. Thomas gave Kate a piece of her mind and the servant flew into a terrible passion.

Mrs. Thomas hurried from the house — it would never do to be late for church, and when she reached her pew, she was all shaken and upset. A former servant, Julia Nicholls, saw her and noticed how white and frightened-looking she was.

“Whatever is the matter, ma’am?” she whispered.

“Oh, Julia,” said Mrs. Thomas, clutching her arm nervously, “I had to speak to Kate and she acted like a crazy woman. I wish I had you with me again.”

Quite a number noticed Mrs. Thomas in church, but few guessed what courage it took for her to go back to her home alone.

It was quite dark. Only a peep of light showed in the fanlight over the front door. As Mrs. Thomas opened the door a lurking shadow stirred and slid against the wall.

As the feet of her mistress reached the landing on the upper floor a black mass disengaged itself from the shadows and Kate ascended the stair. It was well that no other was there in the house to see the expression of her tigerish face.

In the next house Miss Ives looked up from her book.

“Did you hear that, mother? It sounded like something fell next door.”

The two women listened, but all was silent.