“Poor things!” he said to himself more than once as he went. “How altered! Poor Amy!” And by Amy he meant not the little girl but her mother, whom he had long ago known as a merry happy child, without a care or trouble in the world. It was no wonder Mr. Kayll wished for once in his life with all his heart that he were rich, that he might put poverty and want away from these poor relations of his for ever.
The appearance of the streets had quite changed since he came. The shops were now shut, and the foot-passengers had nearly all gone. Only the policeman was still on his beat, and a few stray late people were hurrying home to bed.
Mr. Kayll thought of his wife sitting up tired and half asleep, and wondering what kept him so long, and this thought made him hasten his steps more and more until he was almost running.
All at once, as he was passing a closed shop, the door was suddenly thrown open, and a man dashed swiftly by him. Without noticing this much, he was keeping up his own steady trot, when he heard someone else running behind him, and the next instant a big powerful man had caught hold of him by the collar, and a voice said in his ear:
“I’ve got one of you at any rate! Police! Thieves!”
Mr. Kayll tried to shake off his grasp, but he found this was impossible, so gave up the attempt and stood still.
“Nonsense! What do you mean? What’s the matter?” he asked.
But the man, who had no hat on, and was not completely dressed, shouted again loudly, “Police! Thieves!” while, unseen by either of them, a third man crept out of the same shop-door, and glided quietly away in the opposite direction. Then two policemen came up, and much to his astonishment and anger Mr. Kayll was given into custody.
“It’s absurd!” he said indignantly. “Why, I haven’t twopence about me anywhere.”
But he might say what he liked; it was all of no use. The man without a hat declared that he had broken into his shop, in company with another man who had escaped.