“Now don't you go and distress yourself, Mr. Walker,” the Policeman said, soothingly. “Don't you flurry yourself. There ain't nothing certain, nothing at all. It is just this, it may be, or it may not be, more likely, not. If it weren't that I had promised to let you know directly I heard of anything which might, so to say, bear upon it, I wouldn't have spoken to you at all about it; leastways not till I had been down myself and seen about it. Yes, I am coming to it,” he said, answering the appealing look of the old man; “Yes, but don't you frighten yourself; it may not turn out as you are afraid, not at all. Well, according as you asked me, I sent round to all the Police Stations down the river, but I have heard of nothing that seemed at all likely, not till this morning. But this morning I got word—now don't you frighten yourself, Mr. Walker, it may not have, and I don't suppose it has anything to do with us at all—but this morning I got word that down Gravesend way they have picked something up. There is nothing whatever to identify it by, but it seems, they say, to have been a young woman, and fair. That's all I've heard.”
Stephen Walker did not speak, but motioned with his hand towards his hat.
“Yes, we'll go, Mr. Walker, but just sit down a few minutes first,” the Policeman said, soothingly. “You had better take a nip of something before you start. If you haven't got it in the house, I'll fetch it for you.”
Stephen Walker sank down into his chair again, and pointed to a cupboard, saying, “Brandy.”
The Policeman opened it, took out a bottle of brandy, and poured a glassful into a tumbler, added a little water to it, and gave it to the old man. “There, Mr. Walker, drink that down.” Then the Policeman mixed a glass for himself; for, accustomed as he was to scenes of suffering, and misery, he felt nervous at the thought of the scene he had to go through.
Stephen Walker drank the brandy, holding the tumbler to his lips with both his trembling hands. When he had finished it, the Policeman said, “Now, Mr. Walker, we will start if you like. I've got leave off duty to go down with you, and I've got a cab at the door. You take my arm, sir. That's right,” and so they went out and got into the cab.
During the drive to London Bridge not a word was spoken. Upon the journey by rail down to Gravesend, the Policeman spoke two or three times to his companion, but received no answer, and did not even know whether he was heard. Stephen Walker sat in a stupor of despondency and dread, from which the Policeman had to touch him to arouse him upon arriving at their journey's end. Outside the Station A 56 again took a cab, for Stephen Walker had scarcely strength to stand. They were soon at the Police Office.
“I will go in first, Mr. Walker, you sit here for a minute or two; it may be that I may be able at once to tell you that it is not as you fear, and thus you will be saved the pain of such a sight.”
Stephen Walker made a gesture of assent, he was too sick and faint with dread to speak.