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

He had a laugh and a joke for all, especially for the ladies, though his wife swore there never was a better husband had been born. His gallantry was all on the surface, in the way of trade, and it paid. Mr. Church was well to do, and highly esteemed, a member and official of several clubs.

On Sunday evening, 9th of March, Mr. Church saw his friend Porter come into the bar with his wife, William, and a strange lady who gave him a smile and a nod as though she knew him.

“This is Mrs. Thomas, old boy,” said Mr. Porter, “and we’ll all ’ave a drink.”

Mr. Church took the hand extended to him and noted the rings.

“We’re old friends, I think,” said Kate.

Mrs. Church looked at her blankly.

“First time I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you, ma’am,” said Mr. Church. “However, there’s no time like the present. Happy to know you, Mrs. Thomas.”

“Lived next door to us six years ago,” said Mrs. Porter.

“W’ot I’ve missed in them six years!” said Mr. Church gallantly. “W’ot’s it going to be, friends?”

Mr. Porter soon brought up the subject of Mrs. Thomas’s furniture, and Mr. Church, after consideration, said he’d run over and look at it, and if he fancied the stuff would make an offer for it.

When the party broke up Mrs. Thomas was calling Church by his first name as if she had known him all his life, and he foolishly responding, was calling her Kate.

On Monday another item was added to what was now known as the Barnes Mystery. A working man found in a rubbish heap near Twickenham a neat parcel containing a woman’s foot. This was found to belong to the dismembered body found a few days before.

On Tuesday Church went to inspect the furniture. He found his hostess all dressed up for the occasion and the table set with eatables and drinkables. Though she pointed out the portrait on the wall with the statement “That is my late husband, Mr. Thomas,” Kate did not seem to revere his memory.

She summoned all her secret charm to entertain Church and he spent several hours smoking and drinking. He agreed to pay her sixty-eight pounds for the furniture and advanced her eighteen.

“Where is Mrs. Thomas?”

Whatever his reason we do not know, except that he found something exciting in her company — this model husband — but Church visited Kate every day up to the seventeenth when he superintended the packing of the furniture.

The morning of the eighteenth came and the moving van drove up to the door. Church and Porter, who was to assist him, were already there, and the removal began.

At this point Miss Ives, who had been attracted by the stir, looked out. Her first thought was — Mrs. Thomas is moving — and she hasn’t given me notice. She sent out a servant to ask what was happening, and the van proprietor said he was moving the things to Hammersmith on “Mrs. Thomas’s” orders.

Kate overheard the conversation and asked Porter who was asking, and he told her the lady next door. Drawing herself up and with a determined expression Kate went next door and saw Miss Ives on her steps.

“Where is Mrs. Thomas?” asked Miss Ives.

“I don’t know,” answered Kate, and turned away.

“What’s wrong with the woman? She can hardly speak,” thought Miss Ives, but aloud she said: “Can you give me her address?”

“No!” snapped Kate.

“Indeed!” said Miss Ives sharply. “Then you must excuse me, I will have to attend to it; I must see my agent.” She shut the door.

In a few moments she came out hastily and, after a scathing glance at Church who had overseen but not heard this talk, went off to the agent’s.

Without Leaving an Address

“W’ot’s all this?” asked Church suspiciously. “Anything wrong? I don’t like the looks of it, Porter. If she owes rent we’ve no right to move out her furniture; best call the bargain off. Play safe, eh?”

“I’m sorry, Kate, Mrs. Thomas,” he apologized, “but—”

“Yes, yes,” Kate said excitedly; “send the van away!”

“But my money, Kate!”

“I’ll pay you it back. Here, you can take these dresses.”

She threw some dresses she had sent Porter to get, into the van, in her agitation neglecting to go through the pockets.

“All right, Joe,” said Church to the van proprietor, “nothing more to be done ’ere. Drive us back. See you later, Kate.”

The van drove off with Church and Porter. Ten minutes had not passed before Kate appeared dressed as for a journey. She hastened down the road and got into a cab, for cabs and strong drink were her passion.

She drove to Church’s and got there ahead of the host, but Mrs. Church was there and from her she borrowed a pound.

Tigress as she was, she had the tigress’s love for her offspring. Even in that moment she could not leave her boy. She ran into Porter’s and got him.

Robert dressed him and brought him downstairs. Another cab to the suburban station at Hammersmith. Train to King’s Cross, the boat train to Liverpool, a coal boat to Ireland.

In her uncle’s house at Killane, her birthplace, near Enniscorthy, in County Wicklow, she thought she had found a refuge from the doom which was pursuing her.