Part 9 (2/2)
West drew a breath full of relief, and glanced at Ingleborough, who made no sign, but stood looking stolidly at the officer.
”I'm quite satisfied, gentlemen,” said the latter. ”There is nothing here. Do you charge Mr Anson with illicit dealing?”
”You have not searched his apartments yet,” said the chief director.
”We wish to have further proofs first.”
Anson opened his mouth a short distance as his chief spoke, and closed it again with a sharp little snap.
”You wish the prisoner's rooms to be searched then, gentlemen?”
”I'm not a prisoner,” cried Anson angrily. ”I've neither been charged nor taken into custody.”
”Certainly!” said the director sternly. ”Search Mr Anson's rooms preliminary to his being charged and taken into custody. Mr West, go in front with the superintendent to show the way. I do not wish to make a procession, to create excitement and make us the observed of all.”
”I understand, sir. Mr Anson will walk in advance with me, and you can follow as you please. There is no need for Mr West to walk with us. I know the way!”
”Of course!” snarled Anson. ”Mr Ingleborough's doing, I suppose. Then I have been watched.”
”Yes, my doing,” said the person named. ”As soon as I suspected you of illicit dealing I kept an eye upon you and told Mr Norton here what I thought.”
”Cowardly, sneaking cur!” cried Anson, grinding his teeth.
”No, sir,” cried the director sternly: ”faithful servant of the company.”
”Where are your proofs that I am not?” cried Anson fiercely.
”Not found yet,” said the officer; ”but with all your cunning I daresay we shall trace them.”
”Go on,” said Anson. ”I'm ready for you.”
The next minute the whole party were straggling through the camp-like town towards the outskirts, to gather together at the very ordinary shed-like house of mud wall and fluted corrugated-iron roofing, where the wife of one of the men at the mine stared in wonder at the party, and then looked in awe at her lodger, her eyes very wide open and startled as she grasped what the visit meant.
”Oh, Mr Anson, what have you been a-doing of?” she cried, and burst into tears.
West looked at the poor woman with a feeling of pity, and then felt disposed to kick Anson for his brutality, for the clerk's gesture was that of an ill-tempered cur: he literally snapped at her.
”Out of the way, you idiot!” he cried, ”and let this police-constable and his party come by.”
West saw the directors exchange glances before following the superintendent into the little house, leaving the two clerks to the last, the police-constables remaining watchfully at the door.
”Master Anson is regularly cutting the ground from under him, Ingle,”
said West softly.
”Yes: the fool! I take it to be a tacit confession. You don't think I've made a mistake now?”
West shook his head and looked distressed, but said nothing.
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