Furneaux, quivering with silent wrath, soon abandoned the search when
this _piece de conviction_ was found at the root of the Dorothy Perkins
rose-tree. Seeing the lamp relighted, he peremptorily bade Grant and
Bates come in with him. He closed the window, adjusted the blind again,
and poured generous measures of port wine into two glasses. Handing one
to Bates, he took the other himself.
"Friend," he said, "some men have fame thrust upon them, but you have
achieved it. To-night you pierced the heel of Achilles. Here's to you!"
"I dunno wot 'ee's saying mister, but 'good health'," said Bates,
swigging the wine with gusto.
"Now, for your master's sake, not a word to a soul about this hubbub."
"Right you are, sir! But that there pryin' Robinson wur on t' bridge five
minutes since. And, by gum, here he is!"
A determined knock and ring came at the front door. Minnie, helped by
Hart, had just escorted Mrs. Bates to the kitchen.
"Let _me_ go!" said Furneaux, darting out into the hall. He opened the
door, and thrust his face into the police-constable's, startling the
latter considerably. Before Robinson could utter a syllable, the
detective hissed a question.
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