Julius could afford to smile.
“He didn’t get out. I’ve never left my post, ma’am. My own theory is that it was a burglar.”
“How did he leave the house?” she asked. “The front door is still chained and bolted. He must still be in the house.”
“Don’t say that, miss—ma’am,” begged Julius nervously. “If he was in this house I wouldn’t be responsible for myself. I go mad when I see burglars—that’s why the doctor ordered me to keep away from ’em.”
“He’s in the house; probably hiding in the kitchen. Have some biscuits; when I’ve finished my tea we’ll go look for him.”
Julius had no appetite.
“This is a case for the regular police,” he said earnestly. “They’re paid for it, anyway. The Government supports their widows. Besides,” unselfishly, “they get promotion for capturing burglars. I believe in doing somebody a good turn whenever I can. Shall I get a copper?”
She motioned him to remain.
“Stay here: I will look.”
He refused to stay. His place was by her side and a little behind her. He liked the way she handled that Browning. She seemed the kind of woman who would stand no nonsense.