Shrig, in a tone of pained surprise.
"Prewent it? Lord, Mr. Barty, sir--then vere vould my murder case be?
Besides, I ain't so onprofessional as to step in afore my time.
Prewent it? No, sir. My dooty is to apprehend a man _arter_ the crime,
not afore it."
"But surely you don't mean to allow this unfortunate person to be
done to death?"
"Sir," said Mr. Shrig, beginning to finger his ear again, "unfort'nate
wictims is born to be--vell, let's say--unfort'nate. You can't 'elp
'em being born wictims. I can't 'elp it,--nobody can't, for natur'
vill 'ave 'er own vay, sir, and I ain't vun to go agin natur' nor
yet to spile a good case,--good cases is few enough. Oh, life ain't
all lavender, as I said afore,--burn my neck if it is!" And here
Mr. Shrig shook his head again, sighed again, and walked on in a
somewhat gloomy silence.
Now, all at once, as they turned into the rush and roar of Holborn,
Barnabas espied a face amid the hurrying throng; a face whose proud,
dark beauty there was no mistaking despite its added look of sorrow;
and a figure whose ripe loveliness the threadbare cloak could not
disguise. For a moment her eyes looked up into his, dark and
suddenly wide,--then, quick and light of foot, she was gone, lost in
the bustling crowd.
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