"What do you say?" said he, gaping wildly at the boy.

"Go on; if you're deaf, it's no use talkin' to you. He's been up in the p'lice-court," said he, raising his voice to a shout. "Yesterday--there you are--and there's your drops, and you ain't give me the penny for them."

Samuel threw down the penny, and, too excited to take up the drops, dashed out into the street.

What! yesterday--while he was lounging about town, fancying he had the game all to himself. Was ever luck like his?

He rushed to a shop and bought a morning paper. There, sure enough, was a short notice of yesterday's proceedings, and you might have knocked S.S. down with a feather as he read it.

"Anyhow," said he to himself, crumpling up the paper in sheer vexation, "they won't be able to do without me, I'll take care of that. I can tell them all about it--but catch me doing it now, the sn.o.bs, unless they're civil."

With which valiant determination he swung himself into another cab, and ordered the man to drive to the head police-station.

The inspector was not in, but his second-in-command was, and to him, much against his will, Samuel had to explain his business.

"Well, what do you know about the prisoner?" asked the official.

"Oh, plenty. You'd better subpoena me for the next examination," said Sam.

The sub-inspector smiled.

"You're like all the rest of them," he said, "think you know all about it. Come, let's hear what you've got to say, young fellow; there's plenty of work to be done here, I can tell you, without dawdling our time."

"Thank you," said Sam, "I'd sooner tell the magistrate."

"Go and tell the magistrate then!" shouted the official, "and don't stay blocking up the room here."

This was not what Samuel expected. There was little chance of the magistrate being more impressed with his importance than a sub- inspector. So he felt the only thing for it was to bring himself to the unpleasant task of showing his cards after all.

"The fact is--" he began.

"If you're going to say what you know about the case, I'll listen to you," said the sub-inspector, interrupting him, "if not, go and talk in the street."

"I am going to say what I know," said the crestfallen Sam.

"Very well. It's a pity you couldn't do it at first," said the official, getting up and standing with his back turned, warming his hands at the fire.

Under these depressing circ.u.mstances Samuel began his story, showing his weakest cards first, and saving up his trumps as long as he could. The sub-inspector listened to him impa.s.sively, rubbing his hands, and warming first one toe and then the other in the fender.

At length it was all finished, and he turned round.

"That's all you know?"

"Yes--at present--I expect to discover more, though, in a day or two."

"Just write your name and address on one of those envelopes," said the sub-inspector, pointing to a stationery case on his table.

Sam obeyed, and handed the address to the official.

"Very well," said the latter, folding the paper up without looking at it, and putting it into his waistcoat pocket, "if we want you, we'll fetch you."

"I suppose I had better put my statement down in writing?" said Samuel, making a last effort at pomposity.

"Can if you like," said the sub-inspector, yawning, "when you've nothing else to do."

And he ended the conference by calling to a constable outside to tell 190 C he might come in.

Grievously crestfallen, Samuel withdrew, bemoaning the hour when he first heard the name of Cruden, and was fool enough to dirty his hands with a "big job." What else was he to expect when once these official sn.o.bs took a thing up? Of course they would put every obstacle and humiliation in the way of an outsider that jealousy could suggest. He had very little doubt that this sub-inspector, the moment his back was turned, would sit down and make notes of his information, and then take all the credit of it to himself. Never mind, they were bound to want him when the trial came on, and wouldn't he just show up their tricks!

Oh no! S.S. wasn't going to be flouted and snubbed for nothing, he could tell them, and so they'd discover.

It was no use staying in Liverpool, that was clear. The Liverpool police should have the pleasure of fetching him all the way from London when they wanted him; and possibly, with Durfy's aid, he might succeed in getting hold of another trump-card meanwhile to turn up when they least expected it.

The journey south next day was less blithe and less occupied with the _Law Times_ than the journey north had been. But as he got farther away from inhospitable Liverpool his spirits revived, and before London was reached he was once more in imagination "the clever lawyer, Shuckleford, don't you know, who gave the Liverpool police a slap in the face over that Agency Corporation business, don't you know."

Two "don't you knows" this time!

On reaching home, any natural joy he might be expected to feel on being restored to the bosom of his family was damped by the discovery that his mother was that very moment in next door relieving guard with Miss Crisp at the bedside of Mrs Cruden.

"What business has she to do it when I told her not?" demanded Sam wrathfully of his sister.

"She's not bound to obey you," said Jemima; "she's your mother."

"She is. And a nice respectable mother, too, to go mixing with a lot of low, swindling jail-birds! It's sickening!"

"You've no right to talk like that, Sam," said Jemima, flushing up; "they're as honest as you are--more so, perhaps. There!"

"Go it; say on," said Samuel. "All I can tell you is, if you don't both of you turn the Cruden lot up, I'll go and live in lodgings by myself."

"Why should we turn them or anybody up for you, I should like to know?"

said Jemima, with a toss of her head. "What have they done to you?"

"You're an idiot," said Sam, "or you wouldn't talk bosh. Your dear Reginald--"

"Well, what about him?" said Jemima, her trembling lip betraying the inward flutter with which she heard the name.

"How would you like to know your precious Reginald was this moment in prison?"

"What!" shrieked Jemima, with a clutch at her brother's arm.

He was glad to see there was some one he could make "sit up," and replied, with brutal directness,--

"Yes--in prison, I tell you; charged with swindling and theft ever since he set foot in Liverpool. There, if that's not reason enough for turning them up, I give you up. You can tell mother so, and say I'm down at the club, and she'd better leave supper up for me; do you hear?"

Jemima did not hear. She sat rocking herself in her chair, and sobbing as if her heart would break. Vulgar young person as she was, she had a heart, and, quite apart from everything else, the thought of the calamity which had befallen the fatherless family was in itself enough to move her deep pity; but when to that was added her own strange but constant affection for Reginald himself, despite all his aversion to her, it was a blow that fell heavily upon her.

She would not believe Reginald was guilty of the odious crimes Sam had so glibly catalogued; but guilty or not guilty, he was in prison, and it is only due to the honest, warm-hearted Jemima to say that she wished a hundred times that wretched evening that she could be in his place.

But could nothing be done? She knew it was no use trying to extract any more particulars from Samuel. As it was, she guessed only too truly that he would be raging with himself for telling her so much. Her mother could do nothing. She would probably fly with the news to Mrs Cruden's bedside, and possibly kill her outright.