your coming home in such a hurry, and no warning given, out
of the kindness of his heart it was, as he says, 'Martha, my beauty,' he
says,--which I ain't, and never was, but you know how them men will go
on,--'I can't see you a-toiling and a-moiling and not lend a 'elping
'and; which mine is a strong arm, and it's yours Martha, my dear,' says
he. And so he helped me a-cleanin' of the windows--but outside, mum, the
whole time, and me in; if I never say another breathing word it's gospel
truth."
"Were you with him the whole time?" asked her mistress.
"Him outside and me in, I was," said Martha; "except for fetching up a
fresh pail and the leather that that slut of a Eliza'd hidden away
behind the mangle."
"That will do," said the children's mother. "I am not pleased with you,
Martha, but you have spoken the truth, and that counts for something."
When Martha had gone, the children clung round their mother.
"Oh, mummy darling," cried Anthea, "it isn't Beale's fault, it isn't
really! He's a great dear; he is, truly and honourably, and as honest as
the day. Don't let the police take him, mummy! Oh, don't, don't, don't!"
It was truly awful. Here was an innocent man accused of robbery through
that silly wish of Jane's, and it was absolutely useless to tell the
truth. All longed to, but they thought of the straws in the hair and the
shrieks of the other frantic maniacs, and they could not do it.
"Is there a cart hereabouts?" asked the mother feverishly. "A trap of
any sort? I must drive in to Rochester and tell the police at once."
All the children sobbed, "There's a cart at the farm, but, oh, don't
go!--don't go!--oh, don't go!--wait till daddy comes home!"
Mother took not the faintest notice. When she had set her mind on a
thing she always went straight through with it; she was rather like
Anthea in this respect.
"Look here, Cyril," she said, sticking on her hat with long sharp
violet-headed pins, "I leave you in charge. Stay in the dressing-room.
You can pretend to be swimming boats in the bath, or something. Say I
gave you leave. But stay there, with the door on the landing open; I've
locked the other. And don't let anyone go into my room. Remember, no one
knows the jewels are there except me, and all of you, and the wicked
thieves who put them there. Robert, you stay in the garden and watch the
windows. If anyone tries to get in you must run and tell the two farm
men that I'll send up to wait in the kitc
|