“Then wha in t’ neame of guidness had got how’d of t’ guids,” asked the wife, in a half-frantic state of alarm.
“Oh, you needn’t be under no fears, ma’am; it’s the same foreign party,” returned the officer, with another familiar jerk of his head, “as bolted from London with the ‘bit of goods,’ as you says, ma’am.” And here he gave another wink.
“Oh, then it be as I ’spected, Cursty,” added Mrs. S., “and I suddent wonder but t’ nasty, filthy wretch has got on, at this verra teyme, yen of t’ new shirts I bought thee.”
“And what ever will become of my poor, poor pet?” ejaculated Elcy, with tears in her eyes, for she could think of nothing else but Psyche. “You don’t happen to know—do you, sir—whether that horrid, horrid foreigner is treating the dear thing well, and whether he gives her plenty to eat?”
“Why, for the matter of that, Miss, I think the party a’nt got over much for hisself,” and as if the information was very important, the Detective nodded and winked at the young lady several times in succession.
“Ah, I thought it would be so,” sobbed the young lady, bursting into a flood of tears, “and after all the pains I had taken to fatten the darling. Perhaps you might have heard whether that brute of a foreign gentleman, sir, allowed the dear to continue her flannel jackets; for if he’s only made her leave them off, I’m sure the poor creature must have shivered herself all to pieces by this time.”
“Indeed, ma’am!” exclaimed the astonished Detective, who began to think, from Elcy’s description, that the missing young lady couldn’t be much of a beauty—and, like the gallant members of the force, he flattered himself he was a bit of a judge that way; then, as he heard the broken-hearted girl sob aloud at the thoughts of the sufferings and appearance of her darling Psyche, he said to Mr. Sandboys, “The young lady seems to have been wery much attached to t’other one, sir?”
“Oh, yes,” replied Mrs. Sandboys, “she a’ways wud hev her to sleep at t’ fut of her bed, even though I set mey feace again it, lest there might be a few stray fleas about t’ creatur, you ken.”
The Detective stared with astonishment, and began to think that the family were all very strange. However, it was easy to tell by their conversation that they were fresh from the country, and that, in his mind, made allowance for a great deal. If he had not felt convinced, however, that he had made no mistake in the number of the house, he might have had some slight suspicion as to his blunder, but as it was, he attributed the peculiar character of their conversation to an ignorance of London ways and manners.
“Oh, sir,” Elcy broke out again, “do—pray, do, sir—try and get my poor, poor pet back for me.”