When, two days later, the detective from Scotland Yard called, she was able to receive him in Mrs. Wilcox’s sanctum, for that lady would not suffer him to be shown into the drawing-room. It was with a sense of having been through all this before, that Prudence read that “Victoria, by the Grace of God, Queen,” summoned her to give evidence at the Arrow Street Police Court, on the ensuing Monday morning, “in the case of the Queen v. Sarah Anne Brown, otherwise,” &c., &c.
Well, the worst had come, and she would go through with it somehow. What awaited her when the trial was over she did not venture to speculate. That she had come within the clutches of the law she did not doubt, and her future loomed vague and dreadful. Where could she go if she escaped prison? Her name would be in every paper, her story on every lip. Even the lady who sold the Water of Youth had never heard of a case of a grown, an elderly person, being transformed into a baby by its effects. She foresaw that it would be generally believed that she had got rid of Augusta, and that the baby was—but who or what the baby might be considered was a point on which she absolutely refused to speculate.
Long after the man from Scotland Yard had taken his departure, she sat in a sort of stupor, taking no note of objects round her, and unaware that she was alone, when she was startled by the entrance of Mrs. Wilcox.
The air of that lady was portentous.
“Miss Semaphore,” she said, “there is something I have been anxious to say to you for several days back, but did not like to speak while you were ill. Now, however, that you are able to receive visitors”—with sarcastic emphasis—“I think you are well enough to hear what I have got to say. It is this, that I desire that you will look for accommodation elsewhere, and leave my house at the very earliest opportunity.”
“You mean to turn me out?” asked Prudence in alarm.
“Far be it from me to turn anyone out,” said Mrs. Wilcox. “I merely request you to leave.”
“But why?” said Prudence timidly.
“Why?” echoed Mrs. Wilcox almost in a shriek. “Why? I think you had better ask yourself that question, Miss Semaphore. I have always tried to keep my house respectable, and I must say, Miss Semaphore, if I was to die for it, that I looked to you and your sister to aid me in that endeavour, rather than to bring disgrace on a first-class and well-conducted establishment. ‘Why?’ indeed!”
“I have had a great deal of worry lately,” said Prudence, “quite without any fault of my own, but neither my sister nor myself have done anything to bring disgrace on your establishment, Mrs. Wilcox.”