The ladies did not catch the meaning of this colloquy, though it raised the most bewildering alarm in Mrs. Harwood’s breast. Gussy still thought of it alone as it affected the health of her beloved. She stood by him, her attention concentrated on him, watching whether he grew pale, whether he flushed, if he seemed tired. Her mother’s anxious look awakened no sympathy in Gussy’s mind. If she observed it at all she set it down to the same cause as made herself anxious, the fear that Meredith might be over-excited or fatigued.
“Do you want the maids and all?” said Meredith, in his familiar tone of banter. “You don’t think much of me, my good man, if you think I could be battered like that by—Priscilla, for instance,” he said, turning to Mrs. Harwood with a laugh.
“I wasn’t thinking of no Priscilla,” said the man, angrily. “If it suits you to laugh at it, gentleman, it don’t suit me. There’s a reward out. And when I see as clear as I sees you—I should think it was a man, and a strong one too. Lord, how savage he took you up again and dashed your ’ead against the pavement! I should know him anywhere, among a thousand.”
“Charley,” said Mrs. Harwood, faintly, “there is something dreadful in all this. Do you think it could be put off to another time? or couldn’t they just go and do their duty, whatever it is, without freezing the blood in our veins, and,” she added, catching Gussy’s look, “exhausting you?”
“I’m sorry to trouble the lady, sir,” said the detective. “I shouldn’t have said anything if I could have helped it; but, to tell you the truth, suspicion does attach to a person in the house. If the young gentleman had stayed and faced it, things might have been done quiet. But as he’s gone away—I’m sorry, very sorry, to disturb the ladies—but I’ve got a search-warrant, and I must find my man. You’ll explain it to ’em, sir, as I can’t help it, and it was no wish of mine to upset the house.”
“A search-warrant! Oh, my God! what does he mean?” cried Mrs. Harwood. She added, in her bewilderment, “That could have nothing to do with Charley,” under her breath.
“I have no more idea than you have,” said Meredith; “some one in this house? It must be old Vicars they mean. Come, my man, don’t be too absurd. If you think that old fellow could play at pitch-and-toss with me in the way you describe, you must have a precious poor opinion of me. But I suppose Vicars can be sent for—if he’s in the house.”
“I don’t know nothing about Vicars, nor who he is. Where’s that young gentleman? What did he go away for when he knew as he was wanted? You produce that young gentleman, and then you’ll see what we means,” said the witness, in great wrath.
“Hold your noise,” said the policeman. “I daresay it’s all nonsense when we come to the bottom of it; and I’m sure I’m very sorry to disturb the ladies; but I must just ’ave a few words with the young gentleman. Most likely he can clear it all up.”
“Dolff!” said Mrs. Harwood, with an amazed cry.