"Yep," said the untruthful Bill, who had followed the conversation with interest. Such a finale was in harmony with his tastes. He wanted an audience for the act he contemplated. His ideas about the English law were of the haziest, but he did not doubt his ability to escape the consequence of his vengeance.
One question the girl put to him before his departure.
She found a surprising difficulty in putting it into words.
"Where—where is the wom—your wife now, Mr. Slewer?" she asked in a low voice.
This well-nigh proved the undoing of Mr. Slewer, whose inventive faculty was not the strongest part of his intellectual equipment. He was standing on the doorstep when she put the question, and she saw him wriggle a little in his embarrassment.
"She," he hesitated, "oh, I guess he's got her with him all right, all right." Then he remembered that this could not be so without her knowledge, and he hastened to add, "or else he's put her down and out."
"Killed her?" comprehended the girl with a gasp.
"Yep," said Mr. Slewer nodding his head. "Jukey's a mighty bad man—yes, sir."
Sir Harry was at the gate directing the cabman and young Mr. Tanneur was with him. Bill looked round and then edged closer to the girl.
"Say," he whispered, "dat Jukey feller—do youse wanter do him dirt?"