“Business, ma’am—important business. Must see him at once.”
“You must call when he is at home.”
“Sorry to be rude to a lady, but your face, ma’am, says he is at home, and will not show up.”
“What do you want?”
The man looked sharply round, and his eyes rested on the ajar door of the safe, with its casing of books, its old purpose being now at an end.
“Way into another room,” he said to himself; “he’s there.—I want Mr Glyddyr,” he continued firmly. “Now, look here, ma’am; I can feel for you, though I am a police officer, but I have my duty to do.”
“Your duty?”
“Yes, ma’am, my duty; and Mr Glyddyr is in there; he may as well come out like a gentleman, and let it all be quietly done. He must know that the game is up, and that any attempt at getting away from me is worse than folly. Will you let me pass?”
“Stop!” cried Claude excitedly, as, like lightning, thought after thought flashed through her mind; for at that moment she heard a cough and a step that she recognised only too well. And this man—police—it must be to arrest.
“Tell me,” she cried quickly, “what is it? Why have you come?”