He was ensconced in a little ward by himself, when I visited him and sat down to my task. He cocked an eye at me from a red tangle, and grinned.
“Now, Hurley,” I said, “I come straight from Miss Emma, by her authority, to acquaint you with the results of your deed.”
“O!” he answered. “Hev the peelers been a-dirtyin’ of their pore knees lookin’ for it in the ’edgerows? I ’opes as they found it.”
“You know they couldn’t. You’ve got it yourself.”
“S’elp me, I haven’t!”
Then I informed him, carefully and in detail, of the awful miscarriage of his intentions. He was patently dumbfounded.
“Well, I’m blowed!” he whispered, quite amazed. “Well, I am blowed!”
“You must undo this,” I said. “There’s only one way. Where is the button?”
He gauged me profoundly a moment.
“On a ledge under the table,” he said. Then he thrust out a claw. “Don’t you go lettin’ ’er ’ave it back,” he said, “or I’ll ’aunt you!”