“I don’t know whether this is a bit of gammon, Mr Pradelle,” said the sergeant sharply, “but I never lose a chance.”
He paid not the slightest heed to the other occupants of the room, but ran to the window, threw it open, and called to some one below but only his last words were heard by those inside.
“Quick! first one you see, and I’ll give you a shilling.”
The sergeant closed the window and crossed to Pradelle.
“If it’s a trick it will do you no good. You see, to begin with, it has brought you those.”
“I don’t care,” said Pradelle, glowering at Uncle Luke. “It will take some of the pride out of him, and I shan’t go alone.”
“It is a trick, sergeant. Take the scoundrel away.”
“Must make sure, sir. Sorry for the lady, but she may have been deceived that horrible night, and there’s more in this than I can understand. Your friend be long, sir?”
“Mr Leslie? I expected him back with you.”
“Mr Leslie went on out into the street, sir. Here, I have it. He has been in hiding down your way, and came up with the lady there.”