“No,” he said rudely; “when I want Mr Selwood’s help I will ask for it.”
“As you will, Mr Glaire,” was the reply; “and I hope you will. Good-bye, Mrs Glaire—Miss Pelly, and I sincerely hope this will prove a false alarm.”
“If that fellow thinks he’s coming to my place after the marriage, he’s grievously mistaken,” said Richard to himself, and the door closed.
Meanwhile the vicar called at the station, and after a few words about the burglary and the forthcoming examination—
“By the way, Smith,” he said to the constable, “will you and your man oblige me by keeping a strict watch over the House—Mr Glaire’s—for the next week? I have my reasons.”
“Certainly, sir,” was the reply; “and, by the way, sir, my missus’s duty to you for the port wine: it’s doing her a sight o’ good.”
“Glad of it, Smith; send down for some more when that’s done.”
“He’s a good sort,” muttered the policeman, “that he is; but he ought to have sent up for me the other night.”
The vicar strolled back towards the bottom of the town, and turning off, was making his way towards the foreman’s cottage, when he came upon Big Harry with a stick and a bundle, going across the field—cut to the station.
The great fellow tried to get away, but the vicar hailed him, and he stopped.