“Richmond, as I’d been through twice that very day. When the cab stops—I’d made the man right with half-a-crown, and—telling him I was in the police—my gentleman gets out, and I had him like a shot. I might have got help a dozen times, but I wanted to tackle him myself, as I allus swore I would,” cried Revitts savagely; “but he was too much for me again. I’m stronger than him, but he’s got tricks, and he put me on my back after a good tussle—just look at my noo things!—and afore I could get up again, he was off, running like a coward as he is. But I brought her back, not knowing till I had her under the gas-lamp as it was Master Ant’ny’s friend and your sister, and she’d told me who she was, and asked me in a curious crying way to take her back to Master Ant’ny, as she said was the only one who’d help her now.”
“You—you brought her home in the cab?” cried Mary hoarsely.
“Yes, my lass, and it’s cost me half-a-sov altogether; but I’ve spoilt his game, whoever he is. Poor little lass, she’s been about mad ever since I got into the cab, a-clinging to me.”
“Yes,” hissed Mary.
“And crying and sobbing, and I couldn’t comfort her, not a bit.”
“No!” said Mary softly, through her teeth.
“It was rather rough on you, Mary, my gal,” said Revitts; “but you would marry a police-officer, and dooty must be done.”
Mary was about to speak; but he held up his hand, for Linny seemed to be coming to, and Hallett was kneeling on the floor by her side.
“Mary—Bill,” I whispered; for the right thing to do seemed to be suggested to me then. “Let us go and leave them.”
“Right you are, Master Ant’ny, and always was,” said Bill hoarsely; and, passing his arm round Mary’s waist, he drew her into the other room, by which time the scales seemed to have fallen from poor Mary’s eyes, for the first thing she did, as soon as we were in the room, was to plump down on her knees, clasp those of her husband, lay her cheek against them, and cry, ready to break her heart.