"Ere!" he said, galvanized. "You don't think the beggar's in this house, do you? Who are you after? It must be somebody dangerous. The whole street's full of coppers."
It was; and that was the trouble. I reassured him instantly that there was nobody in the house, for I was afraid he might go out and bawl for all the rest of the police. It was a ticklish position, and I wished to God he would come in and close the door. There were familiar footfalls in the road outside as my late friends patrolled it: there was I, standing smack in the middle of a bare narrow hail illuminated like a theatre, Open to the inspection of anybody who passed. But I couldn't duck back to hide, Or even order him to close the door, in case it roused his suspicions. While he fiddled with his cuffs, and looked hesitantly from the street back to me, the footfalls clumped nearer…
"It's a long job," I grumbled, and turned towards the back door. "Well, I'll be getting on."
"Ere, stop a bit!" he protested, and did what I had hoped for. He closed the door and hurried towards me, evidently wanting to keep a policeman at his elbow when there were cut-throats in the suburbs. He produced a packet Of Gold Flakes, and became persuasive. "NO need to rush Off, is there! 'Ave a fag. Gaow on; 'ave one. There's nobody to mind the smoking. Your sergeant needn't see you, and my governor's away for the evening. There you are!"
"I don't mind if I do," said the Law, relaxing his sternness. "Thank you kindly, sir. You're Mr. Hogenauer's gentleman, aren't you?"
Now this was very much overdoing the bobby-business,
but the other took to it. He nodded with an air of good-natured condescension as he lit a match. "That's me, constable. Bowers is my name — Henry Bowers, at your service. Only been at this job two weeks. Of course, the job is — but — " The dashes do not indicate words, but shrugging gestures which I could not quite interpret. "But never mind that," he said with ghoulish eagerness. "Who is it you're after? What's he done? Is it murder?"
Since he now appeared to have no idea of calling in anybody else, I piled it on rather thickly about a burglar-murderer who had robbed the Chief Constable of the county. "So it's a good job you're indoors, sir. Funny thing, though. How does it happen that, if the boss is out for the night, you're in? I wouldn't, if it was me."
Bowers shifted. "Ah, that," he said. "That's my conscience. Do I have a cushy job here? Do I appreciate it? Not half!" He became confidential. "Good wages, not much to do, and every night off if I want it. So I don't take any chances with it. I pay attention to the emperor, whatever he says. See?" Drawing down the comers of his mouth and half closing his eyes, Bowers tapped his chest with an air of profound shrewdness. "Well, this morning after breakfast he says to me, 'Harry, I'm going to Bristol this evening.' And laughed when he said it. 'But,' he says, you might come in early to-night, because I may have a visitor'
"He said he was going to Bristol, but still he expected a visitor?"