Thorndyke was busy with a solitary customer, and two heavy-coated policemen stood with their backs to Tom, taking a moment’s respite from the cold outside, and “warming up” for the next hour’s duty.
“Anything lively in your beat to-day?” asked one of them listlessly, as he stretched his hands toward the glowing fire.
“Well, not a great deal,” replied the other. “We came down on a nest of pretty dark-feathered birds, up in —— street, but we’ve had an eye on them for some time.”
“Do they belong here?” asked the first.
“No, not more than one of them at least, but there’s a young shoot of one of the best houses in the city that I’ve had my suspicions they were trying to make friends with, of late. Can’t quite vouch for it, though, and wouldn’t if I could, for I don’t think they’ve got any harm out of him yet, and doubt if they ever would.”
The policemen left the fire, and passed out by an opposite door, the customer followed, and Thorndyke looked up at Tom. One look was enough. Tom’s face had told Thorndyke the secret, and Tom knew he had read it.
“For heaven’s sake, Tom,” said Thorndyke, “don’t stand there looking like that! There will be some one in in another moment. Here, come into my office, there’s some one coming this instant. See if this glass of water will make you look like a live man again, and wait there till I come.”
The customer wanted a prescription that took time; hours the minutes seemed to Tom, and then Thorndyke came. Tom looked up at him with a white, hopeless face.
“You will despise me now,” he said slowly. “Of course you never thought much of me; you couldn’t, kind as you were, though I did mean to do as well as I could. But you were kind, and I had rather all the world knew I had disgraced myself, than that you should have found it out.”
“Tom,” said Thorndyke, in a low pitying tone that thrilled him through, “tell me what is the matter here! Are you in trouble about money?”