Broken Threads

“He died of a rope around his neck,’ says she; and just went on pleatin’ at her apron”

‘Her eye was caught by a dish-towel in the middle of the kitchen table. Slowly she moved

toward the table. One half of it was wiped clean, the other half messy. Her eyes made a

slow, almost unwilling turn to the bucket of sugar and the half empty bag beside

it. Things begun- and not finished. “Look at this door,” she said slowly.

“It’s broke. One hinge has been pulled apart.” Mrs Hale came nearer. “Looks as if some

one must have been- rough with it.” ‘But I was on the inside.’ Somebody slipped a rope round

his neck and strangled him, a you didn’t wake up?’ says Harry. ‘I didn’t wake up,’