"That seems a little sudden," said Mrs. Vane thoughtfully. "Are you sure that he did not suspect anything?"
"No, ma'am—I don't think so. Well, he laid down, and I went in and out taking away the things; and, if you'll believe me, in ten minutes he was fast asleep and snoring like—like a grampus!"
"Well, Sabina?"
"I let him stay so for nearly half an hour, so as to be sure that he was thoroughly off, ma'am, and then I went up to him and touched his hair. It was very nicely fitted on; but it was a wig for all that, and one could easily see the dark hair underneath. The beard was more difficult to move—there was some sticky stuff to fasten it on as well as an elastic band behind the ears; but it was plainly a false one too. He's a dark-looking man, almost like a gipsy, I should say, with hair that's nearly black—something like his eyebrows. Do you think he's the man you want, ma'am?"
"I'm sure of it, Sabina. Do you want to earn three hundred pounds besides your twenty?"
"What, ma'am!"
"Three hundred pounds, I remember, was offered for the arrest of Andrew Westwood, escaped prisoner from Portland prison, five years ago. This man is Andrew Westwood, Sabina, who murdered Sydney Vane. You shall have the money to keep as soon as it is paid."
Sabina drew back aghast.
"A murderer," she said—"and him such a nice quiet-looking old gentleman! Why, aunt Eliza was always planning a match between him and me! It's awful!"
Flossy laughed grimly.