“Well, we shall have to look in at the station on our way, and then go on to the police-court. Won’t take long. Bound to remand you, you know, for a week or something like that, and then you’ll get committed, and the assizes are on directly after the new year, so three weeks from now will see it all over.”
The man talked in a pleasant, civil way, in a tone as if he quite supposed Reginald might be pleased to hear the programme arranged on his behalf.
“We’d better go,” said Reginald, moving towards the door.
His face was very white and determined. But there was a tell-tale quiver in his tightly-pressed lips which told that he needed all his courage to help him through the ordeal before him. Till this moment the thought of having to walk through Liverpool in custody had not entered into his calculations, and he recoiled from it with a shiver.
“I needn’t trouble you with these,” said the policeman, taking a pair of handcuffs from his pocket; “not yet, anyhow.”
“Oh no. I’ll come quite quietly.”
“All right. I’ve my mate below. You can walk between. Hulloa!”
This last exclamation was addressed to Master Love, who, having witnessed thus much of the interview in a state of stupefied bewilderment, now recovered his presence of mind sufficiently to make a furious dash at the burly policeman.
“Do you hear? Let him be; let my governor go. He ain’t done nothink to you or nobody. It’s me, I tell yer. I’ve murdered dozens, do you ’ear? and robbed the till, and set the Manshing ’Ouse o’ fire, do you ’ear? You let ’im go. It’s me done it!”
And he accompanied the protest with such a furious kick at the policeman’s leg that that functionary grew very red in the face, and making a grab at the offender, seized him by the collar.