mouth, but it was only Frank.

"Whatever's the matter?" she said.

"Turned off," said Frank shortly. He was sitting gloomily at the table
with his hands in his pockets.

"Turned off?"

He nodded.

"What's up?"

"'Tecs," said Frank.

Gertie's mouth opened a little.

"One of them saw me going in and wired for instructions. He had seen the
case in the police-news and thought I answered to the description. Then
he came back at eleven and told the governor."

"And--"

"Yes."

There was a pause.

"And George?"

"Oh! he's all right," said Frank a little bitterly. "There's nothing
against him. Got any dinner, Gertie? I can't pay for it ... oh, yes, I
can; here's half a day." (He chucked ninepence upon the table; the
sixpence rolled off again, but he made no movement to pick it up.)

Gertie looked at him a moment.

"Well--" she began emphatically, then she stooped to pick up the
sixpence.

Frank sighed.

"Oh! don't begin all that--there's a good girl. I've said it all
myself--quite adequately, I assure you."

Gertie's mouth opened again. She laid the sixpence on the table.

"I mean, there's nothing to be said," explained Frank. "The point
is--what's to be done?"

Gertie had no suggestions. She began to scrape out the frying-pan in
which the herrings had been cooked last night.

"There's a letter for you," she said suddenly.

Frank sat up.

"Where?"

"In the drawer there--by your hand. Frankie...."

Frank tore at the handle and it came off. He uttered a short
exclamation. Then, with infinite craft he fitted the handle in again,
wrapped in yet one more scrap of the _Sporting Times_, and drew out the
drawer. His face fell abruptly as he saw the handwriting.

"That can wait," he muttered, and chucked the letter face downwards on
to the table.

"Frankie," said the girl again, still intent on her frying-pan.

"Well?"

"It's all my fault," she said in a low voice.

"Your fault! How do you make that out?"

"If it hadn't been for me, you wouldn't have taken the tin from George,
and...."

"Oh, Lord!" said Frank, "if we once begin on that!... And if it hadn't
been for George, he wouldn't have taken the tin; and if it hadn't been
for Maggie Cooper, there wouldn't have been the tin; and if it hadn't
been for Maggie's father's sister, she wouldn't have gone out with it.
It's all Maggie's father's sister's fault, my dear! It's nothing to do
with you."

The words were brisk enough, but the manne