“I want to know where James is,” said I, as I entered the little shop.
“God bless me,” said she, with wondering eyes, “more policemen! why the men are scarcely awa’. They searched the hail house, and found naebody. Am I no enough tormented and heartbroken wi’ a neer-do-weel son, but I maun be treated as his keeper, whether I hae him or no, and my house searched by man after man, as if I mysel’ were a breaker of the laws.”
“I know you are not a breaker of the laws, Mrs Kidd,” replied I, calmly, “and that’s the very reason why you should even cheerfully allow an officer to go through your house. I am not in the habit of stealing, and, besides, I wish you to go along with me.”
“But there’s nae occasion,” was the reply. “Have I no tauld ye your men are scarcely out o’ the house, and lang and sair they searched. It’s no that I fear aught, nor the trouble either, but it’s the nonsense.”
“I will put up with the nonsense,” said I.
“Maun I tell you a third time,” said she, with increased firmness, “that my house has been searched by twa men, wi’ twa een each, this morning already?”
“Then two eyes more can do the less harm,” replied I, with a quiet pertinacity at least equal to her own, especially, and no doubt a consequence of, the said pertinacity on her part, which appeared to me somewhat more than was required, according to her own theory.
“Weel, een here or een there, there’s naebody in my house, and what’s the use of our paying for your men, when you have nae faith in them ony mair than in me?”
An adroit reply, but somehow the more she said the more I thought, only in a different direction. I had dallied myself into suspicion, and had little time to spare.
“Come,” said I, “let us end this; but I have consideration. I don’t want to trouble you to go up stairs with me.”