P. G. Wodehouse: The Man with Two Left Feet

11. THE ROMANCE OF AN UGLY POLICEMAN (continued)

'Well, you can search her box.'

A little, bald, nervous man in spectacles appeared as if out of a trap. As a matter of fact, he had been there all the time, standing by the bookcase; but he was one of those men you do not notice till they move and speak.

'Er--Jane.'

'Well, Henry?'

The little man seemed to swallow something.

'I--I think that you may possibly be wronging Ellen. It is just possible, as regards the money--' He smiled in a ghastly manner and turned to the policeman. 'Er--officer, I ought to tell you that my wife--ah--holds the purse-strings of our little home; and it is just possible that in an absent-minded moment I may have--'

'Do you mean to tell me, Henry, that you have been taking my money?'

'My dear, it is just possible that in the abs--'

'How often?'

He wavered perceptibly. Conscience was beginning to lose its grip.

'Oh, not often.'

'How often? More than once?'

Conscience had shot its bolt. The little man gave up the Struggle.

'No, no, not more than once. Certainly not more than once.'

'You ought not to have done it at all. We will talk about that later. It doesn't alter the fact that Ellen is a thief. I have missed money half a dozen times. Besides that, there's the brooch. Step this way, officer.'

Constable Plimmer stepped that way--his face a mask. He knew who was waiting for them behind the locked door at the end of the passage. But it was his duty to look as if he were stuffed, and he did so.