"Certainly, sir! Certainly!" replied the landlord; and away he went in ambassage to Cousins, who soon after was ushered into the private room occupied by Peter Tims, Esq.
He was--or rather is--neither a very tall nor a very stout man; but yet, in the various points of his frame, there is a good deal of solid strength to be remarked; and in his face, which is pale and somewhat saturnine, Mr. Tims thought he could trace a great deal of resolution, mingled with that shrewd knowledge of human nature in its most debased form, which is at once necessary to, and inseparable from, the character of an officer of police. The lawyer, seeing that the officer was a very gentlemanly person in his appearance, soon made sufficient advances; and, being seated together over their wine, Mr. Tims enquired whether his companion had heard anything of the family at Emberton.
"No!--No!" he said, in a tone which appeared habitually guarded against all enquiries, except from those authorized to squeeze the contents out of the spunge of his mind. "No!--No!" he said. "I have heard nothing of them at all!"
"Come, come now, Mr. Cousins!" said the lawyer, who well entered into the spirit of the wariness displayed by his companion, "You know I am interested in this business!"
"Yes, so I hear, sir," replied Cousins, without a word more.
"Well, well, then, be a little more communicative, Mr. Cousins," rejoined the lawyer. "Did you see any of the family at the park?"
"No!" answered the officer; "They were all away!"
"But did not the old woman--the housekeeper--or cook--or something--tell you where they had gone to?" demanded the lawyer.
"There was no old housekeeper there," answered the officer. "They were all away together, and the house shut up."
Mr. Tims was beaten out of his impassibility, and absolutely stared. "But surely you know where they are gone to--or, at least, you guess?" he said, after a pause.