“Of course.”
“Thang gyou.” He bowed and turned to go, taking his wife and Marie Louise by the arm, for mutual support.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll come along,” said Mr. Verrinder.
Sir Joseph nodded. The three went heavily up the grandiose stairway as if a gibbet waited at the top. They went into Sir Joseph’s room, which adjoined that of his wife. Mr. Verrinder paused on the sill somewhat shyly:
“This is a most unpleasant task, but––”
Marie Louise hesitated, smiling gruesomely.
“My room is across the hall. You can hardly be in both places at once, can you?”
“I fancy I can trust you––especially as the house is surrounded. If you don’t mind joining us later.”
Marie Louise went to her room. Her maid was there in a palsy of fear. The servants had not dared apply themselves to the keyholes, but they knew that the master was visited by the police and that a cordon was drawn about the house.
The ashen girl offered her help to Marie Louise, wondering if she would compromise herself with the law, but incapable of deserting so good a mistress even at such a crisis. Marie Louise thanked her and told her to go to bed, compelled her 48 to leave. Then she set about the dreary task of selecting a few necessaries––a nightgown, an extra day gown, some linen, some silver, and a few brushes. She felt as if she were laying out her own grave-clothes, and that she would need little and not need that little long.