“I’ve been up already with the men,” she persisted, “and really I’m no just pleased to hae my word doubted. I’m no a policeman, and I’ve aye thought that when a man doesna believe me, he thinks me a leer. Just gae your wa’s, and be sure there’s nae James Kidd in my house.”
“Well,” replied I, getting impatient, “I must just step up myself.”
“Weel,” was the tardy reply, “a wilfu’ man maun hae his ain way. Come awa’, and ye’ll see what you’ll mak o’t.”
And leading the way very reluctantly, she preceded me up to the little flat. I entered the kitchen, and began to peer about as carelessly to appearance as usual; but I confess I saw nothing which could lead me to suspect that there was any human being there except Mrs Kidd and myself; and she did not seem inclined to condole with me in my disappointment, though I could see, too, that she abstained from shewing any triumph in my discomfiture.
“You see how little harm my survey is doing you,” said I. “It is even pleasant work.”
“It’s no to me, whatever it may be to you,” said she. “You are searching for my son, and isn’t that enough for the heart of a mother? You’re maybe no a father, and canna ken thae things. Ay, it’s sair to hae the heart broken by the hands that should hae comforted it and bound it up. It’s the turning back o’ the yearning that braks it; but now I fancy ye’re satisfied James is no here.”
And I felt for the poor woman. I had the parlour to look through; but as the sounds of her grief fell on my ear, I stood musing a little, and when the mind is occupied, the eye trifles, and mine trifled, as well as did my foot, as I used it in kicking away a bit of coal, a “churl” as we call it, that lay before me. At the same instant my eye caught the heap of coals in the corner, and two thoughts came into my head—first, why the coals should be in that place; and secondly, why the “churl” should be in this place. It had not come there where it lay by having been dropped, because it was not in the line to the fire, and then it was at the edge of a little door which had escaped my notice; or rather, I should say, it was so small an affair, without sneck or lock-handle, that I thought it a mere cupboard. Again, why was the “churl” so situated as if it had come out of the small recess? And once more, why was the cupboard without a projection whereby it could be opened? Ah, well, how the mind will work even when it is playing.
“What place is this?” said I.
“Oh, a little cupboard,” said Mrs Kidd; “just a place for cups and saucers.”
“Which you use every day?”