"He's not in prison, Mrs. Hart," said the man; "but he's going to remain at the station until after the inquiry."
"Mrs. Thomson, will you take care of Rosy till I come back?"
"Why, surely, my dear, you're not going out in your condition!"
"I'm going to my husband," said Mrs. Hart, "and I'm going to see them managers and directors, and ask them what they're going to do to Dick."
With that the distracted woman, putting on her hat and shawl, left Rosy in her neighbour's charge, and hurried downstairs, followed by the man, who said it was best to let her have her own way, and that it was what he would like his wife to do if anything happened to him.
Jim Podmore was with her during all this time, and witnessed the interview between husband and wife.
"I can't tell how it occurred," said Dick Hart, who, although dreadfully distressed, was now more calm, and inexpressibly comforted by the presence of his wife. "Everything seemed to take place in a flash of light, like. I suppose it was because I was tired out with too much work. I don't care for myself. I'm thinking of the future, and what's going to become of you and Rosy--and--and the baby."
Dick broke down a dozen times during the interview, and sobbed and cried like a child.
"It'll always be on my mind. I'm glad I didn't kill myself, for your sake. Perhaps it'd ha' been better for you if I'd been killed, though. I don't know; I don't know what to think. You'd better take what money I've got about me. It ain't much; but I daresay they'll pay you for my work up to to-night."
Dick was fairly bewildered in this serious crisis, and completely helpless. If he had had money, he might have sent for a lawyer; but between eleven and twelve shillings was all his wealth.