The expression of her face struck him as peculiar—surely she was not frightened! And he experienced a kind of pleasure in seeing them both look so exquisitely uncomfortable.
“Well,” he said ironically, “perhaps you’d like me not to listen.” And, going back to the door, he stood leaning against it with his hands up to his ears. He saw the fellow give him a furtive look and go nearer to her; his lips moved rapidly, hers answered, and he thought: ‘What on earth am I covering my ears for?’ He took his hands away, and the man turned round.
“I’m goin’ now, mister; a little mistake—sorry to ’ave troubled you.”
His wife had turned to the fire again; and with a puzzled feeling Granter opened the door. As the fellow passed he took him by the arm, twisted him round into the study, and, locking the door, put the key into his pocket.
“Now then,” he said, “you precious scoundrel!”
The man shifted on his broken boots. “Don’t you hit me, guv’nor, I got a knife here.”
“I’m not going to hit you. I’m going to hand you over to the police.”
The man’s eyes roved, looking for a way of escape; then rested, as if fascinated, on the glowing hearth.
“What’s ten pounds?” he said suddenly; “you’d never ha’ missed it.”