"Good night, Mr. Collop," she said. "I understand all about it now. We leave it to you."
"Thanks, Miss," said Mr. Collop. "That's the right spirit! You leave it to the perfessional man, and you'll never regret it! Is it good night to you, sir?" he added in a voice as loud as ever, stretching out a firm hand and seizing that of the Home Secretary. He crushed it in an iron grip, so that the poor old gentleman winced with pain.
"No, Mr. Collop! ... No, pray ... I must see you again in a moment, indeed I must ... but will you excuse me a moment?" He rose. "My daughter and I must have a private word together I think...."
"It's my place to retire, my lord," said Mr. Collop all in the grand manner, weak in the distinctions. "I'll be in the library, and when you want me, why, come and cop me," and out he went.
Without a moment's warning, Marjorie threw herself upon a sofa, crossed her arms upon the back of it, and began crying and sobbing in a storm. Her father was enormously distressed.
"There, there, my dear," he said, "you are quite overwrought; you are tired. Get to bed. It can't be helped. We must go through with it."
"Oh, papa," she sobbed, "it's intolerable. I can't help thinking! Just think what they'll all think!"
"Yes, my dear; I was thinking that they would be thinking what you say they will be thinking. I'm afraid some of them must have been thinking already."
"Perhaps," moaned poor Marjorie, half consoled by the relief of tears, "that b-b-b-loody b-b-beast will find the b-b-b-b-b-bloody thing after all."
"Yes, my dear, yes. I hope he will. I'm sure he will. I am indeed!"