Mr. Reynolds and I had a cup of tea after all the excitement, and were
sitting at the dining-room table drinking it, when the bell rang. It
was Mr. Howell! He half staggered into the hall when I opened the
door, and was for going into the parlor bedroom without a word.
"Mr. Ladley's gone, if you want him," I said. I thought his face
cleared.
"Gone!" he said. "Where?"
"To jail."
He did not reply at once. He stood there, tapping the palm of one
hand with the forefinger of the other. He was dirty and unshaven. His
clothes looked as if he had been sleeping in them.
"So they've got him!" he muttered finally, and turning, was about to
go out the front door without another word, but I caught his arm.
"You're sick, Mr. Howell," I said. "You'd better not go out just yet."
"Oh, I'm all right." He took his handkerchief out and wiped his face.
I saw that his hands were shaking.
"Come back and have a cup of tea, and a slice of home-made bread."
He hesitated and looked at his watch. "I'll do it, Mrs. Pitman," he
said.
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