The term “baggage” was quite sufficient to assure the Detective that he was in the presence of the gentleman whose female relative had eloped with the foreign Count.
“Yes, sir; we’ve got some clue as to what you allude to—we’ve discovered their whereabouts, at least”—and the cautious and mysterious Officer winked his eye, and nodded his head knowingly.
“Oh, thar’s a guid man! a guid man!” cried Mrs. Sandboys, with extreme joy. “So tha’st heard on t’things at last.”
“True, ma’am,” replied the Officer, “when last we heard on—you know—the things”—and he winked again—“they wasn’t a hundred miles from”—and here he looked cautiously round the room, and added in a whisper—“Gretna Green, ma’am.”
“Gertna Gern!” exclaimed Mr. Cursty; “whar on yerth be that?”
“Why, I should think it’s about, as near as may be, three hundred and fifty miles,” added the Detective, nodding his head knowingly, “from where you’re a sitting on.”
“Waistoma! waistoma! we shall set e’en on t’things never nae mair,” shouted Mrs. Sandboys, wringing her hands, as she thought of the “changeless” state of the family.
“And my poor pet! oh, dear!” interjected Elcy.
Mr. Christopher inquired whether they were in safe custody.
“Why, no, sir, we can’t say as how we’ve got ’em in custody, yet. You see its rayther nasty work making mistakes in matters of this kind.”