“Come in now, take your place, and nobody will ever suspect. It is all in your own hands.”
He did not understand what she meant. Suspect? What did it matter? There was only one thing of consequence—was he dead?
“No,” said Janet. “No, no, no; do you understand! Go in, and say you were in the garden. Oh, do you hear me? The men are coming round again. Come in, and look as if—as if you were yourself.”
As if he were himself! He did not understand. He was not himself. He did not know who he was. He had nothing to do in that house. He stood and stared blankly at her, not knowing what she meant. But Janet was as keen as he was dull. A passion of energy, of life, and purpose was in her. His hand had dropped from her arm, but she seized him with both hers, and dragged him into the house. She flew at him as if she meant to assault him, putting down the collar of his coat, pulling off his cap, thrusting a hat into his hand—a few hours since how those touches, this familiarity, would have moved them both. She did it all now like a nurse dressing a child, while he stood stupid, not resisting.
“Say you have just come in, and ask what has happened. For God’s sake don’t mix them all up in it, and kill your mother. Nobody will ever suspect—ah!” Janet saw through the open door the advancing gleam of the policeman’s lantern. She left him with a little shake to rouse him to energy, and ran forward to meet the constable. “Have you found the man? Have you found anyone? Oh, here is Mr. Harwood, just come in; you can speak to him. He doesn’t know what’s happened. I was trying to tell him. Come in,” she said, “policeman; but don’t let all those people come in. Come in and talk to Mr. Harwood; but shut the door.”
The policeman came in heavily, putting down his lantern on the floor.
“We’ve found nothing, miss, and I didn’t expect as we should. It was my mate’s business to see as no one escaped while I saw after the gentleman; but he’s got clear off, as they always do, along of men not minding their own business. Evening, sir. It’s a dreadful business, this is, to happen just at a gentleman’s door, and a friend of the family, as they tell me.”
“I have just come in,” said Dolff, saying his lesson stupidly. And then he added the only question that had any interest for him: “He’s not dead?”
“Not at present,” said the policeman; “but the doctors say as they can’t tell what an hour or two may bring forth.” He spoke hopefully, as of a favorable turn the case might take. “It’s a deal of trouble for you, sir, and the ladies, to have such a thing as this happen, as I was a-saying, at your very door.”
“It’s very well, though,” said Janet, “for the poor gentleman to be so near a friend’s house.”