“At last ma’am,” said Crampton, rubbing his hands.
“You’ll go up very quietly, Mr Crampton,” said Mrs Van Heldre. “If you would not mind.”
She pointed to a pair of slippers she had laid ready. The old clerk looked grim, muttered something about the points of his toes, and ended by untying his shoes, and putting on the slippers.
Madelaine was quite right, for no sooner had Van Heldre motioned the clerk to a chair by the bed’s head, learned that all was right in his office, and assured the old man that he was mending fast, than he opened upon him regarding the attack that night.
“Was that money taken?” he said, quickly.
“Is it right for you to begin talking about that so soon?” replied Crampton.
“Unless you want me to go backwards, yes,” said his employer, sharply. “There, answer my questions. I have nothing the matter now; only weak, and I cannot ask any one else.”
“I’m your servant, Mr Van Heldre,” said Crampton, stiffly. “Go on, sir.”
“That money, then?”
“Gone, sir, every note. Five hundred pounds.”