“Yes, sir; and Mr Wilkins is making a big stir about it. Never had a civil word for him, and used to sneer at his playing; but, now Dick’s gone, he’s going on as if he couldn’t spare him at no price.”
“How do you know—who told you?”
“The bombardon, sir.”
“The what? Why don’t you say the big drum?”
“Beg pardon, sir, I meant Sergeant Brumpton, the fa—stout musician, sir, as is practising for the band.”
“Then they must be sending out notices to the police all over the place. Tut—tut—tut! This is a great pity. I must ask you one thing, Brigley: has there anything happened that would make him likely to go?”
Jerry nodded his head over and over again.
“I’m sorry—very sorry; but perhaps we are making a stir about nothing, and he’ll be back soon.”
“Yes, sir, perhaps he will.”
“But you don’t expect to see him, eh?”