"Would to heaven they had come for you! I mean, would they had come for one who could as readily be exonerated as you! Mercy! mercy! so the blow has fallen at last!"
The words brought to my memory what Mrs. Penn had said, about a sword hanging by a single hair over Mr. Chandos and his family. I don't think he knew what he was about. He walked across the hall towards the stairs, hesitated, and came back, listening evidently for the knocking of the police; all in the deepest agitation and alarm.
"It may be well for me not to go!" he muttered. "Better that I should be here to face them when they enter! Anne, run you and find Hill: bring her hither quickly: but make no alarm."
I knew it was the hour of supper in the housekeeper's room, and ran to it. Hill was seated at the head of the table, the upper-servants round her.
"Mrs. Hill," I said, appearing among them without ceremony, "Mr. Chandos wants you for a moment. Instantly, if you please."
"There! His hand has burst out bleeding again!" surmised Hickens, who occupied the chair opposite Hill. Mrs. Hill said nothing, but rose and followed me. As we passed through the hall, there came a loud ring at the front door, and a knocking at it as if with sabres.
"Hill," Mr. Chandos whispered, drawing her into the oak-parlour, and there was a world of dread and terror in his tone, "the police are outside the house, mounted."
She shrieked out aloud, making the room ring. The woman actually trembled all over.
"Hush!" interrupted Mr. Chandos. "Don't lose your senses, Hill."
"Oh, Mr. Harry! the police at last! It's what I have dreamt of ever since that awful night!"