‘I won’t have that young man in my house. I won’t have him! Don’t let him dare to put his nose across my doorstep.’
I endeavoured to appease her perturbation.
‘I promise you that he shall not come in, Miss Coleman. My friend here, and I, will go and speak to him outside.’
She held the front door open just wide enough to enable Lessingham and me to slip through, then she shut it after us with a bang. She evidently had a strong objection to any intrusion on Sydney’s part.
Standing just without the gate he saluted us with a characteristic vigour which was scarcely flattering to our late hostess. Behind him was a constable.
‘I hope you two have been mewed in with that old pussy long enough. While you’ve been tittle-tattling I’ve been doing,—listen to what this bobby’s got to say.’
The constable, his thumbs thrust inside his belt, wore an indulgent smile upon his countenance. He seemed to find Sydney amusing. He spoke in a deep bass voice,—as if it issued from his boots.
‘I don’t know that I’ve got anything to say.’
It was plain that Sydney thought otherwise.
‘You wait till I’ve given this pretty pair of gossips a lead, officer, then I’ll trot you out.’ He turned to us.