“I should drum him out of the house with the Rogue’s March,” said Miss Grison laughing fiercely, “beast that you are!”
Sorley did not reply, for he was already tottering towards the door between the two officers, and followed by the inspector. As he passed out of the room, he turned and looked significantly at Alan, “The black bag, don’t forget the black bag,” he said, and, as Moon touched him on the shoulder he went stumbling out of sight. Strange to say no one attached much meaning to his last words, and Alan himself was bewildered.
“What the dickens does he mean?”
“Something bad, you may be sure,” retorted Miss Grison malignantly.
“I think Sorley is a better man than you admit him to be,” remarked the young man indignantly. “Dick, where are you going?”
“I intend to follow Sorley and Moon,” answered Latimer, “come with me.”
“No,” said Fuller with a glance at the landlady, “I wish to ask Miss Grison a few questions.”
“They won’t be answered,” cried Miss Grison exultingly, “my enemy has been trapped, and there is nothing left for me to wish for.”
Latimer was so annoyed at the malignity of the woman, that he turned at the door as her victim had done. “Let me remind you of an excellent proverb, Miss Grison,” he said quietly: “there’s many a slip t’wixt the cup and the lip!” and then he went out quietly.
“There will be no slip except that of Sorley when he is hanged,” said the woman savagely. “Now, you can go, Mr. Fuller, I have no quarrel with you.”