"Why, Margery, what can be the matter? Why do you want to see me so particularly?" asked Mrs. Brooke.
"It's about him--about Muster Geril," she managed to gasp out. "O mum! the polis is coming, and I've run'd all the way from Bulloo to tell you."
"The what is coming, Margery?"
"The polis, mum," answered the girl with one of her uncanny laughs. Miss Primby, who had never heard anything like it before, gave a little jump and stared at Margery as if she were some strange animal escaped from a menagerie.
"The police, I suppose you mean?" Margery nodded, and began to bite a corner of her apron.
"You must be mistaken, child. What can the police be coming here for?"
"To take Muster Geril."
"To arrest my husband?" Margery nodded again. "What can they want to arrest him for?"
"For murder."
"For murder!" ejaculated both the ladies. There was a moment's breathless pause. Gerald, with one hand on the back of a chair, and one knee resting on the seat, had the impassive air of a man whom nothing more can surprise. He had gone through so much of late that for a time it seemed as if no fresh emotion had power to touch him.