“What have you to say for yourself—can it be possible that you have sunk so low as this? I can hardly realise the fact, which, however, is but too evident. I would that some other person had made this discovery.”
“It’s no use making fine set speeches,” returned Peace; “here we both are. It is not a pleasant meeting for either of us, but we must make the best of it.”
“What has been the matter?” inquired the girl. “Shall I go for James, or a policeman, or what?”
“You had better go for a policeman; but stay, where is James?”
“In the room over the coach-house, I suppose.”
“Well, we don’t want his assistance—go for a policeman. The station is not far hence—go, there’s a good girl.”
The maid placed the candle on the table, put on her shawl, and sallied forth.
When she had gone Gatliffe closed the door, locked it, and put the key into his pocket.
“Now,” he said, turning to Peace, “you an my prisoner.”
“So it seems,” returned the latter, who had by that time recovered his assurance; “but may I inquire what you do here? You are not master of this house—are you?”