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Updated: May 12, 2025
Negget, affably. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, George," said his wife, angrily; "speaking to uncle when he's looking like that." Mr. Bodfish said nothing; it is doubtful whether he even heard these remarks; but he drew a huge notebook from his pocket, and after vainly trying to point his pencil by suction, took a knife from the table and hastily sharpened it.
Bodfish, who was economizing space by sitting on the bread- pan, and trembling with agitation. "He's a lonely man," said Negget, shaking his head and glancing from the corner of his eye at the door of the larder. In his wildest dreams he had not imagined so choice a position, and he resolved to give full play to an idea which suddenly occurred to him. "I dare say," said Mrs.
"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.
Negget went up and fetched it and stood eyeing him eagerly as he raised the lid and inspected the contents. It contained only a few lozenges and some bone studs. Mr. Negget helped himself to a lozenge, and going back to his seat, breathed peppermint. "Properly speaking, that ought not to have been touched," said the ex-constable, regarding him with some severity.
"No, the one you're in," interrupted his niece. "It don't signify," said her uncle. "Nobody else has been near the place, and Emma's box has been searched. "Thoroughly searched," testified Mrs. Negget. "Now the point is, what did Mrs. Driver come for this morning?" resumed the ex-constable. "Did she come "
"Was the brooch there last night?" he inquired. "It were," said Mr. Negget, promptly. "Lizzie made me get up just as the owd clock were striking twelve to get her a lozenge." "It seems pretty certain that the brooch went since then," mused Mr. Bodfish. "It would seem like it to a plain man," said Mr. Negget, guardedly. "I should like to see the box," said Mr. Bodfish. Mrs.
Her uncle sat back in his chair, his face still wrinkled perplexedly; then the wrinkles vanished suddenly, chased away by a huge glow, and he rose wrathfully and towered over the match-making Mr. Negget. "How dare you?" he gasped. Mr. Negget made no reply, but in a cowardly fashion jerked his thumb toward his wife. "Oh! George! How can you say so?" said the latter.
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.
Her uncle sat back in his chair, his face still wrinkled perplexedly; then the wrinkles vanished suddenly, chased away by a huge glow, and he rose wrathfully and towered over the match-making Mr. Negget. "How dare you?" he gasped. Mr. Negget made no reply, but in a cowardly fashion jerked his thumb toward his wife. "Oh! George! How can you say so?" said the latter.
Bodfish wrung his hands, and his thoughts reverted instinctively to instances in his memory in which charges of murder had been altered by the direction of a sensible judge to manslaughter. He held his breath for the next words. Mr. Negget drank a little more ale and looked at Mrs. Driver. "I wonder whether you've got a morsel of bread and cheese?" he said, slowly. "I've come over that hungry "
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