"I don't quite comprehend this mystery, Bess," he said, while an anxious frown puckered his brows. "There's a policeman here that accuses me of having abducted a child. There's one missing from Water Street, it seems, and he claims that she is here in this house."
"What?"
"'Tis a remarkable story. I can't seem to get at the bottom of it. He doesn't know me; and he says his orders are not to go away without the child. I can't convince him that there's no child here."
Just then they both started violently, for a double sound broke on their ears, a long-drawn shriek as of a child in pain, followed by Archie's voice, loud and remorseful,—
"Oh, by George!"
An instant later, Theodora appeared on the landing, ejaculating,—
"Gracious me! I forgot her."
"Theodora, what does this mean?" the doctor demanded breathlessly, as he rushed up the stairs. Then, at the open door, he paused in sheer amazement. In the middle of the floor stood Archie Holden, staring at the bed with a face devoid of all expression. Sitting up in the bed and staring back at him with a face of injured innocence and pain, was an unwholesome child of Keltic extraction and unneat exterior, with a dingy knitted hood in lieu of nightcap, and two chapped hands appearing from two vast gray sleeves.
Archie appeared to think that it devolved upon him to explain the situation.
"I'm sorry," he said meekly. "You see, I didn't turn up the gas at first, but I just sat down on the edge of the bed to take off my shoes. I didn't know this—this young person was here, and I suppose I sat on her. But really I can't imagine where she came from. I didn't bring her."