FIFTH NARRATIVE
1. CHAPTER I
(continued)
I put the letter into my pocket--and then asked for the Sergeant's opinion
of the measures which we had taken at the bank.
"Very well intended, sir," he answered, "and quite the right thing to do.
But there was another person who ought to have been looked after besides
Mr. Luker."
"The person named in the letter you have just given to me?"
"Yes, Mr. Blake, the person named in the letter. It can't be helped now.
I shall have something to propose to you and Mr. Bruff, sir, when the
time comes. Let's wait, first, and see if the boy has anything to tell
us that is worth hearing."
It was close on ten o'clock, and the boy had not made his appearance.
Sergeant Cuff talked of other matters. He asked after his old
friend Betteredge, and his old enemy the gardener. In a minute more,
he would no doubt have got from this, to the subject of his
favourite roses, if my servant had not interrupted us by announcing
that the boy was below.
On being brought into the room, Gooseberry stopped at the threshold of
the door, and looked distrustfully at the stranger who was in my company.
I told the boy to come to me.
"You may speak before this gentleman," I said. "He is here to assist me;
and he knows all that has happened. Sergeant Cuff," I added, "this is the boy
from Mr. Bruff's office."
In our modern system of civilisation, celebrity (no matter of what kind)
is the lever that will move anything. The fame of the great Cuff had even
reached the ears of the small Gooseberry. The boy's ill-fixed eyes rolled,
when I mentioned the illustrious name, till I thought they really must have
dropped on the carpet.
"Come here, my lad," said the Sergeant, and let's hear what you
have got to tell us."
|