The words were scarcely out of his mouth, when the door leading from the staircase was opened abruptly, and Toby Siggs thrust in his head, and looked at them with a scared face. On the principle that whatever Betty did was sure to be right, Toby would not have thought of questioning her, concerning her championship of the supposed Dandy Chater, or of her endeavours to hide him. Obedient to Philip’s injunction, Mrs. Siggs had refrained from entering into any explanation with Toby—who was, if the truth be told, somewhat of a gossip. But, at the present moment, loyalty to his wife, no less than to the man whose cause she upheld, had prompted him to leave his chamber, and creep down to give them warning.
“Betty, old gal—that there Tokely—as is the deepest ever I see—an’ the most careful of ’is precious skin—’as gorn off to fetch assistance.” It took Toby a long time to say this, in his slow and ponderous fashion; but he got it out at last, and stood nodding his head prodigiously when he had finished.
“What do you mean?” asked Philip quickly, making a movement towards the door. “I’ve heard no one about the house; how could he have got out?”
“Artfulness—downright perlice artfulness—an’ nothink else,” replied Toby, slowly. “Arter you chucked stones at ’is winder, an’ arter I’d ’ad that little argyment with ’im, I thought ’e’d gone to by-bye; but not ’e. I ’eard a scrapin’ agin’ the wall, an’ looked out; an’ there was that Tokely, shinnin’ down a sort of rope, made of the Missis’ best company sheets. ’E’s gone straight down to the village constable, to get ’im an’ a few more—so as to make sure of yer, Master Dandy. An’, by the noise—’ere they come!”
Philip Chater, even while Toby’s slow speech was in progress, had become aware of a noise of feet and a murmur of voices outside. “It’s all over, Betty, I’m afraid,” he said, in a low voice—“but I think I’ll try a dash for it. Good-bye, little mother; don’t fear for me.”
Feeling more valiant than usual, with a good backing of yokels, and the village constable, Inspector Tokely came straight into the room, and walked up to Philip, smiling grimly. Before, however, he had had an opportunity for saying a word, Philip stepped forward, and caught him by the arms; swung him round, by the impulse of that movement, straight to Toby Siggs, and dashed headlong at the crowd in the doorway. Toby, for his part, receiving the full weight of the Inspector on his stockinged feet, immediately held fast to that gentleman, and began to pummel him soundly on his own account—heedless of the fact that Philip had only been able to fight his way into the midst of a considerable crowd of men, and had there been secured. The Inspector, writhing under his punishment, and struggling vainly to get away, was shouting out orders, entreaties, and threats, in the most confusing fashion.
At last, some sort of order being restored, and the Inspector released, the two principals in the little scene faced each other in Betty Siggs’s parlour, with a crowd of eager faces about them.
“Well,” gasped Tokely—“so I’ve got you, have I, Mr. Dandy Chater!”
“Pray be accurate, policeman,” replied Philip, coolly. “You haven’t got me; it’s these good fellows you have to thank for that. I congratulate you on your bravery, policeman; you have brought a pretty good mob against me.”
There was a smothered laugh at the expense of the Inspector, who turned rather red. “I knew you to be a dangerous character,” he said—“and I did not intend that you should slip through my fingers again. For the present, Mr. Siggs”—he turned towards Toby, with a malicious grin on his face—“I must trouble you to give over this room—in the Queen’s name—until such time as I can get a trap, to drive this man back to Chelmsford; one or two of us will wait here with him, until it arrives. He may be a desperate character, but he won’t get over me in a hurry. Here—catch his arms, some of you.”