"Oh, can't I help, Jeremiah?"
"Well," said the policeman, in a patronizing tone, "you might see Mrs. Johnson, and pick up what yer can. She's an old lady as talks freely; so find out if the nigger girl and Johnson 'ad a row. That'll be strong circumstanshal evidence, any'ow."
"I'll do it, Jeremiah; I'll do it! I can easy take up some fish as a gift to Mrs. Johnson. I've met her two or three times, and she's got a friendly side to me."
"Mind you're careful, Jemima--and, above all, 'old your tongue."
Enunciating these words in his most majestic manner, the new Vidocq put on his helmet, and left Jemima doing her best to cork up the information she had received. No easy task for a lady with a tongue excessively developed longitudinally.
In the mean time, Grimleigh was in a great state of excitement. It was rarely that a murder occurred in their quiet neighbourhood, and this fact, coupled with their intimate knowledge of the victim, roused their interest in an extraordinary degree. The inquest was to take place in the afternoon, at "The Fisherman's Rest"--a hostel near the shed in which the body had been laid out. The town was on tiptoe of excitement. Amongst the witnesses whom Chard intended to call was Mr. Johnson; and he sent up the astute Slade to serve the minister with a subp[oe]na. Jeremiah was delighted at this chance, which, as likely as not, would bring him into the study of the man he suspected. He resolved to use his eyes sharply. Fortune often acts generously when she acts at all, and as Slade was climbing the hill, he met Korah Brand. This was the very man he wanted to see, and he at once saluted him.
"What is it?" asked Brand, impatiently. He looked older than usual, and a trifle pale. It was evident that the loss of Tera had affected him in an unusual degree, as in truth it had; for without Tera, Brand did not care to return to Koiau. If he did, it would be at the risk of his life; for, on learning of his daughter's death, Buli would as likely as not sacrifice the luckless missionary on the altar of his god. It was therefore with no very great good will that he submitted to be stopped by this raw-boned Goliath.
"Who are you?" asked Korah, with a growl.
"Jeremiah Slade," replied the officer. "I am a police-constable in this town. I am on my way to serve Mr. Johnson with a subp[oe]na."
"Oh, the shame, the shame that has fallen on Bethgamul!" said Brand, in tones of deep grief. "Our dear sister is taken, and our pastor has to bow down in the temple of Rimmon!"