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Updated: May 3, 2025
Of course Plimmer, that's her maid, you know, will help us. She knows where Peggy keeps all her things." "Why not ask Madame de Léra to do it?" said Vanderlyn, in a low voice. He turned away and stared at a sporting print which hung just on the level of his eyes. Had he ever written imprudent letters to Peggy?
Golden voices giggled delightedly at his bellowed chaff. And Ellen Brown, whom he called Little Pansy-Face, was definitely in love with him. They were keeping company. They were walking out. This crushing truth Edward Plimmer learned from Ellen herself.
Instead o' that I told 'er about the music-'all, and arter carrying on like a silly gal o' seventeen and saying she couldn't think of it, she gave way and said she'd go with me to find 'im. I was all right so far as clothes went as it happened. Mrs. Plimmer said once that I got more and more dressy every time she saw me, and my missis 'ad said the same thing only in a different way.
'Yes, said Constable Plimmer. It was the one reply she was not expecting. For direct abuse, for sarcasm, for dignity, for almost any speech beginning, 'What! Jealous of you. Why she was prepared. But this was incredible. It disabled her, as the wild thrust of an unskilled fencer will disable a master of the rapier. She searched in her mind and found that she had nothing to say.
Her eyes were red, but she was no longer crying. Her chin had a brave tilt. 'I couldn't not after what he did. Let's go along. I I don't care. She looked at him curiously. 'Were you really going to have let me go? Constable Plimmer nodded. He was aware of her eyes searching his face, but he did not meet them. 'Why? He did not answer. 'What would have happened to you, if you had have done?
"'I'm glad o' that, for your sake, my man, ses the cap'n, looking at me very hard. 'I 'ope you will be able to explain 'ow it was you came to leave the wharf for three hours. "I saw it all then. If I split about Mrs. Plimmer, he'd split to the guv'nor about my leaving my dooty, and I should get the sack.
The sharp-faced woman was waiting for him at the door. He followed her into the flat. 'What is it, ma'am? 'Theft! Our cook has been stealing! She seemed sufficiently excited about it, but Constable Plimmer felt only depression and disappointment. A stout admirer of the sex, he hated arresting women.
'If you want to know the time, ask a pleeceman, she said. 'You been on this beat long? 'Just short of two weeks, miss. 'I been here three days. 'I hope you like it, miss. 'So-so. The milkman's a nice boy. Constable Plimmer did not reply. He was busy silently hating the milkman.
Constable Plimmer reconciled his mind to the fact that his term in Battersea must be looked on as something in the nature of a vacation. He was not altogether sorry. At first, indeed, he found the new atmosphere soothing.
It was her afternoon out, the sharp-faced woman had informed Constable Plimmer, attributing the fact that she had discovered the loss of the brooch in time to stop her a direct interposition of Providence. She was pale, and there was a hunted look in her eyes. 'You wicked girl, where is my brooch? She held it out without a word. She had been holding it in her hand. 'You see, officer!
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