He bustled cheerfully out of the room and downstairs, and Mrs. Gibbs, motioning Mr. Brown to silence, stood by the door with parted lips, waiting. Three or four minutes elapsed.
“'Ere they come,” said Mr. Brown, as footsteps sounded on the stairs. “Now, no screaming, mind!”
Mrs. Gibbs drew back, and, to the gratification of all concerned, did not utter a sound as Mr. Kidd, followed by her husband, entered the room. She stood looking expectantly towards the doorway.
“Where is he?” she gasped.
“Eh?” said Mr. Kidd, in a startled voice. “Why here. Don't you know 'im?”
“It's me, Susan,” said Mr. Gibbs, in a low voice.
“Oh, I might 'ave known it was a joke,” cried Mrs. Gibbs, in a faint voice, as she tottered to a chair. “Oh, 'ow cruel of you to tell me my pore Joe was alive! Oh, 'ow could you?”
“Lor' lumme,” said the incensed Mr. Kidd, pushing Mr. Gibbs forward. “Here he is. Same as you saw 'im last, except for 'is whiskers. Don't make that sobbing noise; people'll be coming in.”