“I am obliged to you for your good opinion,” retorted the single gentleman, “and quite concur in those sentiments. But that is not the subject on which I wish to speak with you.”
“Oh!” said Sally. “Then just state the particulars, will you? I suppose it’s professional business?”
“Why, it is connected with the law, certainly.”
“Very well,” returned Miss Brass. “My brother and I are just the same. I can take any instructions, or give you any advice.”
“As there are other parties interested besides myself,” said the single gentleman, rising and opening the door of an inner room, “we had better confer together. Miss Brass is here, gentlemen!”
Mr. Garland and the notary walked in, looking very grave; and drawing up two chairs, one on each side of the single gentleman, formed a kind of fence round the gentle Sarah, and penned her into a corner. Her brother Sampson under such circumstances would certainly have evinced some confusion or anxiety, but she—all composure—pulled out the tin box and calmly took a pinch of snuff.
“Miss Brass,” said the Notary, taking the word at this crisis, “we professional people understand each other, and, when we choose, can say what we have to say, in very few words. You advertised a runaway servant, the other day?”
“Well,” returned Miss Sally, with a sudden flush overspreading her features, “what of that?”
“She is found, ma’am,” said the Notary, pulling out his pocket-handkerchief with a flourish. “She is found.”
“Who found her?” demanded Sarah hastily.
“We did, ma’am—we three. Only last night, or you would have heard from us before.”
“And now I have heard from you,” said Miss Brass, folding her arms resolutely, as though she were about to deny something to the death, “what have you got to say? Something you have got into your heads about her, of course. Prove it, will you—that’s all. Prove it. You have found her, you say. I can tell you (if you don’t know it) that you have found the most artful, lying, pilfering, and devilish little minx that was ever born.—Have you got her here?” she added, looking sharply round.
“No, she is not here at present,” returned the Notary. “But she is quite safe.”
“Ha!” cried Sally, twitching a pinch of snuff out of her box, as spitefully as if she were in the very act of wrenching off the small servant’s nose; “she shall be safe enough from this time, I warrant you.”
“I hope so,” replied the Notary.—“Did it occur to you for the first time when you found she had run away, that there were two keys to your kitchen door?”
Miss Sally took another pinch, and putting her head on one side, looked at her questioner with a curious kind of spasm about her mouth, but with a cunning aspect of immense expression.
“Two keys,” repeated the Notary; “one of which gave her the opportunities of roaming through the house at nights when you supposed her fast locked up, and of overhearing confidential consultations—among others, that particular conference to be described today before a justice, which you will have an opportunity of hearing her relate; that conference which you and Mr. Brass held together on the night before that most unfortunate and innocent young man was accused of robbery, by a horrible device of which I will only say that it may be characterised by the epithets you have applied to this wretched little witness, and by a few stronger ones besides.”
Sally took another pinch. Although her face was wonderfully composed, it was apparent that she was wholly taken by surprise, and that what she had expected to be taxed with, in connection with her small servant, was something very different from this.
“Come, come, Miss Brass,” said the Notary, “you have great command of feature, but you feel, I see, that by a chance which never entered your imagination, this base design is revealed, and two of its plotters must be brought to justice. Now, you know the pains and penalties you are liable to, and so I need not dilate upon them, but I have a proposal to make to you. You have the honour of being sister to one of the greatest scoundrels unhung; and, if I may venture to say so to a lady, you are in every respect quite worthy of him. But connected with you two is a third party, a villain of the name of Quilp, the prime mover of the whole diabolical device, who I believe to be worse than either. For his sake, Miss Brass, do us the favour to reveal the whole history of this affair. Let me remind you that your doing so at our instance will place you in a safe and comfortable position—your present one is not desirable—and cannot injure your brother, for against him and you we have quite sufficient evidence (as you hear) already. I will not say to you that we suggest this course in mercy (for, to tell you the truth, we do not entertain any regard for you), but it is a necessity to which we are reduced, and I recommend it to you as a matter of the very best policy. Time,” said Mr. Witherden, pulling out his watch, “in a business like this, is exceedingly precious. Favour us with your decision as speedily as possible, ma’am.”
With a smile upon her face, and looking at each of the three by turns, Miss Brass took two or three more pinches of snuff, and having by this time very little left, travelled round and round the box with her forefinger and thumb, scraping up another. Having disposed of this likewise and put the box carefully in her pocket, she said—
“I am to accept or reject at once, am I?”
“Yes,” said Mr. Witherden.
The charming creature was opening her lips to speak in reply, when the door was hastily opened too, and the head of Sampson Brass was thrust
