So her mind ran on. She left the house, and walked down the road, heedless where she went, and the precautions of Mr. Hobbs to be unobserved in his following was so much skill thrown away. He noted that she walked unsteadily, and, with his varied experience in “drunks,” the suggestion of partial intoxication occurred to him. To his credit, he put the thought aside as only worthy of an ignorant member of the force.
Evidently, he said to himself, she is going somewhere of importance, or she would hardly go at night, and by herself such a day as this has been for her. No doubt I shall now gain a clue.
“Cheer up, old man,” he said to himself; “‘there is a tide in the affairs of man,’ etc. Now is your chance; this is the first good case you have had a hand in. The ladder of promotion is before you. Climb!”
Bertha by this time had descended the steep path that leads to M‘Mahon’s Point wharf.
“The devil!” said Hobbs. “It seems she means to go to Sydney. What if she is really guilty, and means to give us the slip? I will close up.”
Once, twice, three times Bertha paced the wharf, her eyes bent on the water with a hungry longing.
She made a step forward.
“Be careful!” sang out the warning voice of the constable.
But, with a wild cry, Bertha threw up her arms and plunged down. There was a splash, a few bubbles, and a little whirl in the waves as constable Hobbs rushed forward.
“Well, I’m damned! Just my luck!” he exclaimed, as he threw off his coat and hat, and with a wild sweep of his arms dived into the harbour.