“I shay I’ll gimmeself up,” he proclaimed, with a desperate attempt at dignity; “I’ll gimmeself up takin’ away lil boy; I’ll shacrifishe m’self. Solemn duty shacrifishe m’self f’elpless woman, ain’t it? Ver’ well then; gimmeself up takin’ ’way lil boy, buyin’ ’m pair shoes. No harm in that, issher? Hope not. Ver’ well then.” And he subsided into tears.
[Illustration: “‘WHAT’S YOUR NAME?’ ASKED THE INSPECTOR.”]
“Whash name? Thash my bishnesh. Warrer wan’ know name for? Grapertnence ask gellumshname. I’m gellum, thash wha’ I am. Besht of shisters too, besht shis’ers”--snivelling again--“an’ I’m ungra’ful beasht. But I shacrifishe ’self; she shan’ get ’n trouble. D’y’ear? Gimmeself up shtealin’ lil boy. Who says I ain’ gellum?”
Nothing more intelligible than this could be got out of him, and presently he was taken off to the cells. Then Hewitt asked the inspector, “What will happen to him now?”
“Oh he’ll get very sober and sick and sorry by the morning,” he said; “and then he’ll have to send home for some money, that’s all.”
“Oh, he’ll forget all about that; that’s only a drunken freak. The child has been recovered. You know that, I suppose?”
“Yes; but I am still after the person who took it away. It was a woman. Indeed, I’ve more than a suspicion that it was the woman who brought the child here when he was lost before--the one with the scar on the neck, you know.”
“Is that so?” said the inspector. “Well, that’s a rum go, ain’t it? What did she bring him back here for if she wanted him again?”
“That I want to find out,” Hewitt answered. “And now I want you to do me a favour. You say you expect that man below will want to send home in the morning for money. Well, I want to be the messenger.”
“Want to be the messenger? Well, that’s easily done; if you’re here at the time I’ll leave word. But why?”
“Well, I’ve a sort of notion I know something about his family, and I want to make sure. Shall I be here at eight in the morning, or shall we say nine?”
“Which you like; I expect he’ll be shouting for bail before eight.”
“Very well, we will say eight. Good-night.”
And so Hewitt had to let yet another night go without an explanation of the mystery; but he felt that his hand was on the key at last, though it had only fallen there by chance. Prompt to his time at eight in the morning he was at the police station, where another inspector was now on duty, who, however, had been told of Hewitt’s wish.