"I see," he said, "that sweep has been telling you some of his cursed lies with his music lessons."
She stopped and faced him. "Will you kindly tell me which way you are going? Because I'll go a different way. Or is it necessary to make a fuss?"
He stared at her in amazement for a moment, then he stepped a little closer and looked into her eyes. "I am going back to my diggings in Clere Road. I shall never come this way again. I wish I could leave this rotten town and these rotten people for ever. But let me tell you that that man is a rogue, how great a rogue only God knows. And if you think he's going to marry you, you're greatly mistaken. He's deceived two girls in this town, and the Lord only knows how many more elsewhere. He could paper his room with girls' photographs and girls' letters."
"Thanks," she said in icy politeness; she had studied the manners of her superiors to some purpose, but in her they did not seem a burlesque as is usually the case with the superior servant.
He looked at her steadily for some moments in silence, and she returned his gaze quite calmly. "I was in love with you," he said, "and I felt I had done your friend Sam Lee an injustice. Now I feel that I have done him a kindness in saving him from a very exceptional fool."
"I am honoured," she said. "Your friend and benefactor, Mr Darwen, has at least the manners of a gentleman."
"I'll take your word for it. I imagine you know, the penny novelettes describe the article very minutely." He looked into her eyes and saw that they blazed with anger; the sight reminded him of a similar occasion in Scotland when she carried a big stick and they stood facing each other at the door of his diggings. His anger faded at once. "I'm sorry, I've behaved like a cad, but the issues were so important, to me. An apology, I suppose, is all the reparation I can offer." He turned and walked away, leaving her there.
She stood and watched him till he was out of sight, but he never looked back. He was not built that way. On his way to the works next morning, Carstairs heard the news-boys shouting, "mysterious murder of Councillor Donovan." He bought a paper and read the account.
"At an early hour this morning Police Constable Garret observed a body floating down the river near the High Street Bridge. On being dragged ashore, it was at once recognized as that of Councillor Donovan, proprietor of the Blue Anchor Hotel, Dock Street. The unfortunate gentleman's neck was dislocated, and his ribs squashed in as though by some powerful animal."
Carstairs did not read any more, but hurried on down to the works; he searched out Bounce in the engine-room.