Prudence’s heart stopped beating, and she caught the door-post to save herself from falling.
“Where is she, Müller?” she gasped faintly.
“I did show her into the morning room,” said Müller, “ven she say that avay she vill not go; but therein she vill not remain, but valk into the hall and calls for you.”
Before he could say any more, there appeared before the shocked eyes of Prudence a vision of good Mrs. Brown, flushed, dishevelled, her bonnet to one side. With unsteady gait, she lurched down the hall, and confronted the trembling lady.
“So you’ve come at larst,” she said; “nice way to keep a ’spectable woman awytin for you. S’pose I’ve nothin’ better to do than sitting ’ere?”
“What do you want with me, Mrs. Brown?” asked Prudence, in an agitated voice.
“Wot d’ I want with you? Well, I likes that. Wot do I want, she sez! I want to know wot d’ you mean by sending a ’spectable married woman for the keep of that there byby a cheque as she can’t get no money for? Eh? Tell me that? A bloomin’ shame, I calls it; but you just fork out that thirty pounds as you howe me, or I’ll ’ave the law of you,” said good Mrs. Brown, loudly but indistinctly.
Prudence was miserably conscious that two or three heads were peering over the balustrade from the landing above.
“Will you come in here, please,” she said as firmly as she could, “and tell me exactly what is the matter?”
“The matter?” queried Mrs. Brown, as she lurched against her. “Matter enough! What did you go for to send me a cheque at all, wen I told you I wouldn’t ’ave no cheques?”