“Mrs. Parrot! Mrs. Parrot!” called Holdsworth.
The half-distracted woman ran into the sitting-room, where the first thing she saw was Dolly in a dead faint, lying upon the sofa, with Holdsworth kneeling by her side.
“She overheard your voices!” he exclaimed, turning up a face as white as death. “Pray God the shock may not kill her. Look to her, Mrs. Parrot, I must speak to the man outside.”
He jumped up and left the room, and found the little irritable man in the act of walking away.
“I beg your pardon. One moment!” he cried, running out after him. “Pray excuse my agitation—you have brought shocking news. Is it indeed true?”
The little man turned and took in Holdsworth from head to foot, and answered: “It is true, sir. I’ve seen the body myself. It’s in the Town Hall. He’s been in the water all night, the doctor says.”
“All night?”
“He was found by a man named Williamson. They all knew who he was when they saw him. He must have been drunk when he fell into the water, for the path was wide enough for a horse and cart. Dr. Tanner asked me to step round with the news as he heard I was coming this way. Good morning.”
The little man nodded and walked away. Had Dolly been a rich man’s wife, a sympathetic deputation, introduced by the churchwardens, might have made a procession to her house to break the news gently, but how can you expect sympathy for the wife of a man who dies owing everybody money?