Harry, feeling at last that the man was serious, and that his disjointed remarks had a meaning which the other could not fathom, sprang at him, shook him, and demanded to know what he meant.
“Oh, you idiots!—you blunderers!” Cripps was still laughing boisterously. “Don’t you see that there are two of them? One dead—t’other living!”
Further than that, he would say nothing; he still continued to dance about in the dust, and to clap his hands, and to shriek with laughter, and to shout, over and over again, that one was dead and t’other living. Harry, filled with repentance for the trouble he had brought upon his master, and keenly anxious to do all in his power to undo the wrong he felt he had committed, began to feel that this man might know something concerning Dandy Chater which would be useful—that he might be able, in some strange way, to save the man against whom that fearful charge of murder had been made. Looking at him, Harry began to wonder what to do; how to force from this man the information he probably held. Feeling his own weakness in the matter, he cast about in his mind to discover to whom he might turn for help.
He must find, in the first place, a friend of the man he desired to assist—some one about whose loyalty to Dandy Chater there could be no faintest doubt. The name of one person after another occurred to him—only to be immediately rejected, as an avowed believer in his guilt, or as too weak to be of use. Suddenly there came the thought of Miss Barnshaw—the woman who loved Dandy Chater—who was rich, and had powerful friends; he decided to go to her at once, and to take Cripps with him.
To go to her was easy enough; to take the little man was another matter. For Cripps already began to repent of having said anything to a stranger, even in the natural excitement attending the discovery he felt he had made; on Harry suggesting, with much eagerness, that they should go together to see Miss Barnshaw, he at once became very grave again, and resolutely shook his head. Visions of Ogledon—of the body he had assisted to drag from the river—of many other things—floated before him; he decided to hold his tongue.
Feeling, however, on second thoughts, that it might be possible that this young and rich lady would be willing to assist so forlorn an outcast, in need of considerable refreshment, he at length consented to accompany the lad to her house; and was hurried along, at a most undignified pace, by Harry, immediately his consent had been obtained.
Harry stipulated that he should first see the young lady alone, in order to prepare her for whatever communication Cripps might have to make; and that gentleman, complying with so reasonable a request, took a seat in the hall, while Harry was shown into the presence of Madge, who was alone.
There, his courage and resolution began to fail him at once—the more so, that she came eagerly towards him, with a flush on her face, and with her eyes lit up with a faint hope that he had news for her.
“What is it, Harry; what have you to tell me?” she asked, quickly.
“I want to be fair and just, Miss,” he said; “I want to undo some of the wrong I have done, and have so bitterly repented of.”