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As the madwoman turned to attack her, the room was filled with men, headed by the sergeant. Three of them were barely enough to control the frantic wretch, and bind her hand and foot. After-inquiry, patiently pursued in more than one direction, failed to throw any light on the mystery of Jervy's death.
"You forget, sir, that the police have no orders to take him. What I'm speculating on is the chance that he has got the money about him say in small banknotes, for convenience of changing them, you know." "Well?" "Well, sir, the people he lives among the squint-eyed man, for instance! don't stick at trifles. If any of them have found out that Jervy's purse is worth having "
The suspicion of her infamous employer, which had induced Mrs. Sowler to attempt to intrude herself into Phoebe's confidence, led her to make a visit of investigation at Jervy's lodgings later in the day. Informed, as Phoebe had been informed, that he was not at home, she called again some hours afterwards.
Only tell me, dear Phoebe, would you turn your back on a forlorn old creature because she has outlived all her other friends, and hasn't a farthing left in the world? Poor as I am, I can help her to a supper, at any rate." Phoebe expressed her admiration of these noble sentiments by an inexpensive ebullition of tenderness, which failed to fulfill Jervy's private anticipations.
Sowler proceeded, with a ferocious assumption of courtesy, "how old you are, miss? You're young enough and pretty enough not to mind answering to your age, I'm sure." Even Jervy's villainous experience of the world failed to forewarn him of what was coming. Phoebe, it is needless to say, instantly fell into the trap. "Twenty-four," she replied, "next birthday."
Sowler had seen him look back at the lady and gentleman in the corner, and was listening attentively to catch the first words that fell from his lips. "Which is Mr. Farnaby?" she asked. "The man in the corner there, with the white silk wrapper over his mouth, and his hat down to his eyebrows." Mrs. Sowler looked round for a moment to make sure that Jervy's man and her man were one and the same.
This I'm certain of I kept it for six good weeks after the ten pounds he gave me were spent. And then " she stopped, and looked at Phoebe. "And then you got rid of it?" Mrs. Sowler felt for Jervy's foot under the table, and gave it a significant kick. "I have done nothing to be ashamed of, miss," she said, addressing her answer defiantly to Phoebe.
By that time, the landlord had discovered that Jervy's luggage had been secretly conveyed away, and that his tenant had left him, in debt for rent of the two best rooms in the house. No longer in any doubt of what had happened, Mrs. Sowler employed the remaining hours of the evening in making inquiries after the missing man.
Her natural force of character asserted itself once more. "You lie!" she rejoined. "Leave the room!" The door was opened, while she spoke. A respectable woman-servant came in with a letter. Mrs. Farnaby took it mechanically, and looked at the address. Jervy's feigned handwriting was familiar to her. In the instant when she recognized it, the life seemed to go out of her like an extinguished light.
He tells me of a squint-eyed man, who was a good deal about the house, doing Jervy's dirty work for him. If I am not misled by the description, I think I know the man. I have my own notion of what he's capable of doing, if he gets the chance and I propose to begin by finding our way to him, and using him as a means of tracing Jervy.
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