Outside the window, however, was nothing but black darkness; after a moment, the Inspector turned away, half making up his mind that he must have been mistaken, and resumed his seat. At the same moment, Mr. and Mrs. Siggs came in, evidently on the best possible terms with each other, from the bar.
Now, it was a curious thing that Mrs. Siggs, after one glance at the bared window, made no further remark about it; nor did Mr. Siggs. Further than that, Toby Siggs suddenly developed an extraordinary liking for the Inspector, and a mad desire to be convivial with him, quite out of keeping with his general character. For he slapped that respected man upon the back; forced his glass upon him; ran out into the bar to fill it himself, the moment it was empty, insisting that it should be at his expense; and altogether woke up wonderfully. More than that, the Inspector, after sipping his renewed glass, pronounced it to be mighty good stuff—but rather stronger, he thought, than the last; however, he drank it, and it seemed to loosen his tongue in an extraordinary fashion.
He mentioned—as between friends—that he had a warrant in his pocket—to be used if necessary—against a certain person whom he would not name; proclaimed himself a cautious man; but hinted at murder, and darkly suggested that a certain person would find him a remarkably tough fellow to get over.
The Inspector had had his glass replenished for the fourth time, and was so well pleased with himself, that he had begun to wag his head, and wink upon Mrs. Siggs, when another strange thing happened. Clara, who had been sitting all this time, looking, for the most part, at the fire, and occasionally at the Inspector, suddenly seemed to cry out; checked the cry with a fit of hysterical laughter, which may have been induced by some remark of Tokely’s; and ran—still laughing in that strange fashion—from the room.
The Inspector, after recovering from the little shock occasioned by Clara’s behaviour, appeared to be falling asleep. Betty Siggs, with a watchful eye upon him, drew nearer to her husband.
“Toby,” she whispered breathlessly, stretching out a hand to draw him towards her, and still keeping an eye upon Tokely—“’e’s come back again. Clara must ’ave seed ’im.”
“Can’t think w’y ’e should be a ’angin’ about ’ere—a shovin’ ’is ’ead into danger like this,” whispered Toby in reply. “’E’s ’ad a long start—an’ might ’ave bin miles away afore this. W’ere’s Clara gone?”
Betty Siggs made a hasty movement with her hand to silence him; for Tokely was waking up again. At the same moment, a noise was heard in the rear of the house, and the next instant a small door in the further corner of the room was thrust open, and Harry Routley burst in. He was wild looking, and in a fearful state of excitement; without pause, he bounded into the middle of the room, and faced the astonished Tokely, who had risen hurriedly to his feet. Betty Siggs must have seen that in his face which appalled her, for she cried out suddenly, and covered her eyes with her hands.
“Is there a man here,” cried Harry, looking round upon them all, “who wants to find the murderer of Patience Miller?”
Before any one could speak, and while the energy of the lad still held them dumb, a figure darted in at the open doorway, and caught him in its arms, and fell at his feet. It was Clara Siggs.