‘You—will!’ he exclaimed, speaking slowly and dully, at first with an effort, but more clearly and rapidly as passion sobered him for a time. ‘You will! Do! Then you’ll have to send her to quod with me.’
Mrs. Duck hid her face.
‘It isn’t true, Jabez,’ she moaned; ‘it isn’t true.’
‘Ha, ha!’ laughed Mr. Turvey, staggering up to the table, and bringing his dirty hand down on it with a blow. ‘Look at her! She won’t do anything more for me, she won’t! Here!’ he shouted, ‘police! police! come and take me! Come and arrest the great gold robber, Turvey the guard! You’ve done it now, Susan! It’s too late! Police! police!’
He rushed about the room in his drunken rage, smashing the things out of his way, and yelling ‘Police!’ at the top of his voice. Mrs. Turvey rushed to the door, her face white as death and her lips parted in terror. Jabez seized the furious drunkard in his arms and, exerting all his strength, forced him down into a chair.
‘Hold your row, you fool!’ he exclaimed. ‘Do you want the whole street about our ears?’
For a moment the man seemed inclined to struggle. He made one violent effort, and then began to sob, and whine, and maudle again.
An hour later Mr. Turvey was fast asleep on the sofa in Mr. Duck’s parlour.
Mr. Duck had agreed to allow him to remain for the night, for he was very anxious to question Mr. Turvey when his present intoxication should have passed off.
He had heard quite enough to know that he had the secret of the great gold robbery within his four walls, and he had seen a means by which he could not only earn a large reward, but the fame he had thirsted for all his life, without in any way injuring the esteemed individual whom he had the honour to call brother-in law.