“Dolff!” cried Meredith, with a burst of laughter.
His apparent appreciation of this as an excellent joke confused the two men. They looked at each other again for mutual support.
“You’d not have laughed if you’d seen him, as I did,” growled the stranger.
“I felt—him, whoever he was, as you didn’t, my man; and it is evident you think me a poor creature, to be battered about by a boy—or a woman. Come, there’s enough of this nonsense,” he said. “Why didn’t you seize the fellow when you saw him? What do you mean, coming with this cock-and-bull story three weeks after—and to me?”
“Produce the young gentleman, sir, and let me just ask him a few questions.”
“I haven’t got him in my pocket,” said Meredith. “Probably he has gone out. If he were here, I should not allow him to answer your questions. I’m his legal adviser. Come, come, don’t let us have any more of this.”
“If he has gone out,” said the policeman, “by this time he’s in the hands of my mate—and if he haven’t I’ve a right to search the house. You’d better produce him, mister—or you, lady, before it’s too late.”
Janet, unable to bear the scene which was thus rising to a climax, had got up out of the shadow and left the room a moment before. The hall was perfectly vacant, not a trace of any one in it—not even Priscilla going about her business, or the nurse in the dining-room, which was still sacred to the invalid. The lamp burned steadily, the silence was dreadful to the excited girl. It seemed like the pause of fate—not a sound within or without—even the voices, subdued by distance, but generally audible in a cheerful hum from the kitchen, were hushed to-night. All perfectly silent—calm as if tumult or tragedy had never entered there.
CHAPTER XL.
“I must go after them; I must—I must follow them! Oh, Dolff, where are you—where are you?” cried Mrs. Harwood.