"And now, my dear Towgood, I don't think I can do any more for you."
Major Towgood jumped up and bustled towards the door. But he wasn't gone yet. His gratitude was overpowering; and the chief had to back him out of the room, politely, but decisively.
"You are just the man we want, Faunce," said the Major, as they walked down a long corridor that led to the staircase. "Your Chief has told me all about you—you were in the Bank of England case, he said, and the Lady Kingsbury case—and—ever so many more sensation trials—and now you're on your own hook—which just suits us. The Chief and I were at Sandhurst together, don't you know, and he'd do anything for me. But he's a busy man, a very busy man; and I always respect a man's business, pull myself up short, don't you know, wouldn't waste his time or bore him, on any account."
"They haven't much time to spare in this building, sir," assented Faunce.
"Of course not. Magnificent building—splendid institution—fine body of men the police—but there ought to be three times as many of 'em. Eh, Faunce, that's your opinion, ain't it?"
"No doubt, sir, there ought to be more of them, if it would run to it."
"But it won't, no, of course it won't. Another penny on the income-tax this year! We shall see it a shilling before we've done with it."
"We should see it half a crown, sir, if everything was done as it ought to be done."
"True, true, Faunce. A social Utopia, and the taxpayer with hardly bread to eat. Well, I want to take you straight to my mother-in-law, who will tell you all about her worthless son—a bad egg, Faunce, a bitter bad egg, and not worth a ha'porth of the anxiety that poor old lady has been feeling about him. She lives at Buckingham Gate. Shall we walk?"
"By all means, sir. May I ask what particular circumstances have caused this uneasiness on Mrs. Rannock's part—and from what period her anxiety dates?"