“ ’Ere!” he said, with eager manipulation trying to force something upon her. “I’ve done ’er! I’ve got it for yer! Take it—make ’aste—they’re arter me. It’s yourn as by rights, and she’s got to crow on the wrong side of ’er woundy little mouth.”
But Miss Belmont, with instinctive repulsion, had put her hands behind her back and retreated before him.
“Jim!” she said sickly. “What have you got? What do you mean? I’ll take nothing from you.”
“O, go along!” he insisted. His cough was gone. He seemed animated with a new masterfulness. “Ain’t I in the know? It’s yourn, anyhow, and”—his eye closed in an ineffable rapture—“I done the devil out of his own when I heard I be booked to go to him. He’ll pay me, I reckon; but I don’t care. You take it. It’s your dooty as a good woman.”
“No, no,” cried Miss Belmont, beating him away with her hands. “Don’t let me even see it to know. How could you suppose such a thing? Take it back while you’ve time.”
B’s 33 and 90 wore their list-footed boots; but Jim’s ear was a practised one. Swiftly summoned, they had raced on his tracks from the Assembly Rooms. He had known it, and had laboured merely to keep his start of them by three minutes—two—one. Now, while their sole was yet on the threshold, he darted into the dining-room and was under the table at a dive. They had him out and handcuffed, of course, in a jiffy; and then they stood to explain and expostulate.
“Well, you ain’t a cheeked one neither, Hurley! To run up here of all places for cover! Don’t you mind him, Miss.” (She stood pale and shivering. “The shock!” she had murmured confusedly.) “Why,” said 33, “the man was heard by plenty proposing of hisself to visit you; and looked to your hold kindness to him to take and shelter, is supposed.”
She found voice to ask: “What’s he done?”
“Done!” said 33. “Why, bless you, Miss! Treating of you as if you was in collusion, ain’t I?” (She shivered.) “Why, he grabbed a jewel—a gold button, as I understand—out o’ the buzzim o’ your own late brother’s good lady as she was a-stepping into her broom, and bolted with it. It’ll be on ’im now if we’re lucky.”
“You ain’t then, old cock,” said Jim, with a little hoarse laugh and choke.