Though pure as
snow, she flew to him and hugged him with the art of one of the denizens
of rougedom, and kissed him, and all the time was acting some by-play
with her nimble fingers.
"Where is your box, you naughty uncle? Doesn't my mother like her eyes
opened in the morning? Ah, here it is."
And getting the box, she carried it to her mother, who was still more
surprised; for she never had got a pinch from Mr. Henderson nor any one,
though she sometimes, for her breathing, took a draught of a pipe at
night.
"It is empty, you witch," cried Henderson.
"Ah! then, my mother will not get her eyes opened." And she returned it
into his pocket with these said subtle fingers.
The mother got dressed, and took a cup of Jeannie's tea, and in a few
minutes they were all on their way to the police office. They found
Captain Stewart in his room, and along with him the procurator-fiscal.
"Come away, Mr. Henderson; this is a bad business," said Stewart.
"The villain!" cried Henderson; "I hope he will hang for it."
"Ay, if guilty though, only," replied the captain.
"Would you know the man?" said the fiscal.
"No, he had a napkin over his face; but I could guess something from his
size and voice."
"He admits the robbery," said Stewart; "but he has an absurd
qualification about a frolic, which yet, I am bound to say, is supported
by his accomplices.
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