‘No, sir; there was no need to do it.’
‘You’re mistaken, that’s all, both you and Hewetson. It couldn’t have been Miss Cray! I know for certain that she is—is—is—not in London at present. It must have been a stranger.’
‘It was not, indeed, sir, begging your pardon. I could tell Miss Cray anywhere, by her figure and her voice, without seeing her face. But I did see her face, and remarked how awfully pale she was—just like death, sir!’
‘There! there! that will do! It’s of no consequence, and you can go back to your work.’
But any one who had seen Mr Braggett, when left alone in his office, would not have said he thought the matter of no consequence. The perspiration broke out upon his forehead, although it was December, and he rocked himself backward and forward in his chair with agitation.
At last he rose hurriedly, upset his throne, and dashed through the outer premises in the face of twenty people waiting to speak to him. As soon as he could find his voice, he hailed a hansom, and drove to Hammersmith. Good Mrs Thompson opening the door to him, thought he looked as if he had just come out of a fever.
‘Lor’ bless me, sir! whatever’s the matter?’
‘Mrs Thompson, have you told me the truth about Miss Cray? Is she really dead?’