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McEachern and himself offered a permanent bar to his prospects, he did not believe. For the moment, he declined to consider the existence of the ex-constable at all. In a world that contained Molly, there was no room for other people. They were not in the picture. They did not exist.
At six o'clock Ephraim Bander, a retired constable, now on the staff of the Beacon, had taken his station at the door, in order to greet would-be purchasers with the laconic and discouraging words: "Sold hout!" During the last two years ex-constable Bander had announced the selling "hout" of the Beacon every Tuesday evening. At seven o'clock Mrs.
Bodfish affected the widow visibly, but its effect on the ex-constable nearly upset the bread-pan. "But here," continued Mr. Negget, with another glance at the larder, "he might go on like that for years. He's a wunnerful shy man big, and gentle, and shy. He wanted Lizzie to ask you to tea yesterday." "Now, Mr. Negget," said the blushing widow. "Do be quiet."
Negget, feeling that his mirth was certainly ill-timed, shook for some time in a noble effort to control himself, and despairing at length, went into the back place to recover. Sounds of blows indicative of Emma slapping him on the back did not add to Mrs. Negget's serenity. "The point is," said the ex-constable, "could anybody have come into your room while you was asleep and taken it?"
"If I put my finger on the culprit," he asked at length, turning to his niece, "what do you wish done to her?" Mrs. Negget regarded him with an expression which contained all the Christian virtues rolled into one. "Nothing," she said, softly. "I only want my brooch back." The ex-constable shook his head at this leniency. "Well, do as you please," he said, slowly.
"I should never ha' thought of it by myself," said the farmer; "but I think they'd make a very nice couple, and I'm sure Mrs. Driver thinks so." The ex-constable sat down in wrathful confusion, and taking up his notebook again, watched over the top of it the silent charges and countercharges of his niece and her husband.
He watched them turn the corner, and then, with a cautious glance round, which failed, however, to discover Mr. Negget, the ex-constable strolled casually in the direction of the cottage, and approaching it from the rear, turned the handle of the door and slipped in. He searched the parlour hastily, and then, after a glance from the window, ventured up stairs.
To say that the thing struck McEachern as sinister is to put the matter baldly. There was once a gentleman who remarked that he smelt a rat and saw it floating in the air. Ex-constable McEachern smelt a regiment of rats, and the air seemed to him positively congested with them. His first impulse had been to rush to Jimmy's room there and then; but Lady Jane had trained him well.
The ex-constable defined kleptomania as a sort of amiable weakness found chiefly among the upper circles, and cited the case of a lady of title whose love of diamonds, combined with great hospitality, was a source of much embarrassment to her guests. For the whole of that day Mr.
Bodfish affected the widow visibly, but its effect on the ex-constable nearly upset the bread-pan. "But here," continued Mr. Negget, with another glance at the larder, "he might go on like that for years. He's a wunnerful shy man big, and gentle, and shy. He wanted Lizzie to ask you to tea yesterday." "Now, Mr. Negget," said the blushing widow. "Do be quiet."
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