“Bless the boy! What’s buttons to do with it? It’s on the mantelshelf, if you must know.”
Martin reached it down, examined it, and in a moment exclaimed:
“This is Mr. Seymour’s. His top button is missing. I saw him as he came in.”
“Well!” said Susan.
“Gundra must have torn it off. It was Mr. Seymour spirited him away.”
“Did you ever! You hear that, Gollop?”
“Eh? What?” said Gollop, who was beginning to doze in his chair.
“That Indian boy was carried off in the night, and ’twas Mr. Seymour done it. Poor little wretch! That’s kidnapping. You can’t go to sleep yet: what’s your precious law say to that?”
“The law says,” muttered Gollop drowsily, “what you can’t help, make——”
“Listen to me,” said his wife, shaking him. “You’ll just go upstairs at once with this button and show it to that Seymour, and ask him what he means by——”