Mr. Torrens staggered—reeled—and would have fallen, had not Dykes caught him by the arm, saying, "Sit down, sir—and compose yourself. I'm very sorry that I should have been the cause of unsettling your good lady so, sir: but I'm obleeged to do my dooty. And as for t'other business in the garden—I s'pose——"
"I presume you are an officer?" cried Mr. Torrens, suddenly recovering his presence of mind, as if he had called some desperate resolution to his aid.
"That's just what I am, sir," answered Dykes.
"And you have come here to—to——"
"To arrest Mrs. Slingsby that was—Mrs. Torrings that is—for forgery, was my business in the first instance," continued Dykes; "and now its grown more serious, 'cos of a orkard discovery made in the garden——"
"What?" demanded Torrens, with strange abruptness: but he was a prey to the most frightful suspense, and was anxious to learn at once whether any suspicion attached itself to him relative to that discovery, the nature of which he could full well understand.
"The dead body—the murdered gentleman, master!" exclaimed the lad Harry, throwing terrified glances around him.
"I do not understand you!" said Mr. Torrens, in a hoarse-hollow tone: "what do you mean? All this is quite strange—and therefore the more alarming to me."
But the ghastly pallor and dreadful workings of his countenance instantly confirmed in the mind of Dykes the suspicion he had already entertained—namely, that Mr. Torrens was not ignorant of the shocking deed now brought to light: and the officer accordingly had but one course to pursue.
"Mr. Torrens, sir," he said, "the less you talk on this here business, perhaps the better; 'cos every word that's uttered here must be repeated again elsewhere; and it will be my dooty to take you afore a magistrate——"