"'Business,' was it? Ah, well, now! And what sort of business would that be?"
"I don't know."
"And would you tell me now if you did know?"
Jennie looked at him with clear, limpid eyes.
"I'm not sure that I would. I don't know what right you have to ask me questions as it is."
"This right." Turning back the lapel of his coat, he displayed a badge. "We don't want to frighten you, Miss Follett, my friend and me, we don't; but if you know anything about the boy, it'll be easier in the long run both for him and for you—"
"What do you want him for?"
Lizzie's voice was so deep that it startled. On the threshold of the little entry she stood, tall, black robed, almost unearthly. At the same time Pansy, who had also come downstairs, crept toward Flynn with a low, vicious growl. Both men stumbled to their feet, awed by something in Lizzie which was more than the majesty of grief.
"Ah, now, we're sorry to disturb you, ma'am, my friend and me. We know you've had trouble, and we wouldn't be for wantin' to bring more into a house where there's enough of it already. But when things is duty, they can't be put by just because they're unpleasant—"
"Has my son been taking money from Collingham & Law's?"