“I got leave to be there,” said the boy insolently, but reddening.
“Who gave you leave?” said the inspector, collaring him. “Ah,” he added, as the captive burst into tears, “I told you you’d have to deal with me. Now hold your noise, and remember where you are and who you’re speakin’ to; and perhaps I mayn’t lock you up this time. Tell me what you saw when you were trespassin’ in the meadow.”
“I sor a young ‘omen and a man. And I see her kissin’ him; and the gentleman won’t believe me.”
“You mean you saw him kissing her, more likely.”
“No, I don’t. I know wot it is to have a girl kiss you when you don’t want. And I gev a screech to friken ‘em. And he called me and gev me tuppence, and sez, ‘You go to the devil,’ he sez, ‘and don’t tell no one you seen me here, or else,’ he sez, ‘I might be tempted to drownd you,’ he sez, ‘and wot a shock that would be to your parents!’ ‘Oh, yes, very likely,’ I sez, jes’ like that. Then I went away, because he knows Mr. Wickens, and I was afeerd of his telling on me.”
The boy being now subdued, questions were put to him from all sides. But his powers of observation and description went no further. As he was anxious to propitiate his captors, he answered as often as possible in the affirmative. Mr. Jansenius asked him whether the young woman he had seen was a lady, and he said yes. Was the man a laborer? Yes—after a moment’s hesitation. How was she dressed? He hadn’t taken notice. Had she red flowers in her hat? Yes. Had she a green dress? Yes. Were the flowers in her hat yellow? (Agatha’s question.) Yes. Was her dress pink? Yes. Sure it wasn’t black? No answer.
“I told you he was a liar,” said Fairholme contemptuously.
“Well, I expect he’s seen something,” said the inspector, “but what it was, or who it was, is more than I can get out of him.”
There was a pause, and they looked askance upon Wickens’s boy. His account of the kissing made it almost an insult to the Janseniuses to identify with Henrietta the person he had seen. Jane suggested dragging the canal, but was silenced by an indignant “sh-sh-sh,” accompanied by apprehensive and sympathetic glances at the bereaved parents. She was displaced from the focus of attention by the appearance of the two policemen who had been sent to the chalet. Smilash was between them, apparently a prisoner. At a distance, he seemed to have suffered some frightful injury to his head, but when he was brought into the midst of the company it appeared that he had twisted a red handkerchief about his face as if to soothe a toothache. He had a particularly hangdog expression as he stood before the inspector with his head bowed and his countenance averted from Mr. Jansenius, who, attempting to scrutinize his features, could see nothing but a patch of red handkerchief.
One of the policemen described how they had found Smilash in the act of entering his dwelling; how he had refused to give any information or to go to the college, and had defied them to take him there against his will; and how, on their at last proposing to send for the inspector and Mr. Jansenius, he had called them asses, and consented to accompany them. The policeman concluded by declaring that the man was either drunk or designing, as he could not or would not speak sensibly.