The Mystery of M. Felix. B. L. Farjeon
Don't answer hastily. This is another important point.'
"Thus admonished, Mrs. Middlemore took time to consider; and no doubt it was with a certain regret that she felt constrained to say, 'I think I must 'ave slept better than ordinary. I was that tired that my legs was fit to drop off me.'
"'You slept very soundly?'
"'I must 'ave done, mustn't I, sir?'
"'That is for you to say. You see, Mrs. Middlemore, the body of M. Felix could not have been removed without a certain noise. Now, if you were awake you must have heard it.'
"'I didn't 'ear nothing. I'll take my Bible oath of it.'
"'At what hour did you wake this morning?'
"'At 'alf-past eight, and I got up at once.'
"'Isn't that rather late for you?'
"'It is, sir, but I've got no one to attend to now.'
"'You were not in any way disturbed in the night?'
"'No, sir.'
"'You positively heard nothing?'
"'Nothing at all.'
"'Did Sophy?'
"'Love your 'eart, sir! Sophy wouldn't wake up if cannon-balls was firing all round her!'
"'As a matter of fact, has she told you she heard nothing last night?'
"'I won't say that. I ain't 'ad time to arks her.'
"'I'll ask her myself if you've no objection. Stop here for me; I shall not be gone long.'
"'I can't stop 'ere alone, sir. I'll come down, and keep in the passage while you speak to Sophy.'
"They went down together, and Mrs. Middlemore remained outside while our reporter entered the kitchen.
"His entrance aroused Sophy, who had been sitting in a chair, apparently asleep, in the same state of untidiness as he had left her. She fell on her knees with a guilty air, and began to rake out the stove, making a great rattle with the poker.
"'Fire not lit yet, Sophy?' said our reporter, much amused.
"She looked up with a sly look, and seeing that he was not going to scold her, rubbed her nose with the poker and smiled boldly at him.
"'Not yet, old 'un,' she replied, making no attempt to continue her work.
"To be addressed as 'old 'un' must have been especially humiliating to our reporter, who is a good-looking fellow of eight-and-twenty, but he did not resent it.
"'Wood won't catch, I suppose,' he said. 'Too damp, eh?'
"'Soppin',' said Sophy, though as a matter of fact there was no wood before her.
"'What are you looking so hard at me for?' asked our reporter. 'You'll make me blush presently.'
"'You blush!' laughed Sophy. 'I like that, I do. Look 'ere, old 'un. When you wants to blush, you'd better 'ire somebody to do it for you. I'll do it for tuppence a time.'
"'You would have to wash your face first,' said our reporter, entering into the humor of the situation.
"'I wouldn't mind doing that,' said Sophy, staring harder than ever at him, 'if you'd make it wuth my while. As for lookin' at you, a cat may look at a king.'
"'I'm not a king,' observed our reporter, 'and you're not a cat.'
"'Call me one, and you'll feel my clors. I'm reckonin' of you up, that's what I'm doing of.'
"'And what do you make of me, Sophy?'
"'I sha'n't tell if you're going to act mean. 'Ansom is that 'ansom does.'
"Our reporter took the hint, and gave the girl a sixpenny-piece.
"'I say,' cried Sophy, greatly excited, as she tried the coin with her teeth. 'Stow larks, you know. Is it a good 'un?'
"'Upon my honor,' said our reporter, placing his hand on his heart, with a mock heroic air.
"'Say upon your soul.'
"'Upon my soul, if you prefer it.'
"'Change it for me, then. I'd sooner 'ave coppers.'
"Our reporter had some in his pocket, and he counted out six into Sophy's grimy palm. A seventh, by accident, fell to the floor. Sophy instantly picked it up.
"'Findin's keepin's,' she said.
"'I'm agreeable. And now what do you make of me?'
"'Wait a bit,' said Sophy. Unblushingly she lifted her frock, and tied the coppers in her ragged petticoat, tightening the knots with her teeth, which were as white as snow. 'That's my money-box, and I've got some more in it. What do I make of you? Oh, I knows what you are. You can't gammon me.'
"'What am I?'
"'You belong to the Perlice Noos, that's what you do. You've come to make pickchers. Pickcher of the 'ouse where the body was found. Pickcher of the room where the body was laid. Pickcher of the body's bed. Pickcher of the body's slippers. Pickcher of Mrs. Middlemore, the body's 'ousekeeper. Oh, I say, make a pickcher of me, will you? I'll buy a copy.'
"'Perhaps, if you're good. But you must answer a question or two first.'
"'All serene. Fire away!'
"'You went upstairs last night with your aunt after you had your supper?'
"'Yes, I did.'
"'You did not go into the rooms?'
"'No, I didn't.'
"'Because you were frightened?'
"'Gammon! It'd take more than that to frighten Sophy.' She added, with a sly look, 'Aunty's easily kidded, she is.'
"'Ah,' said reporter, somewhat mystified, 'then you came down and went to bed?'
"'Yes, I did, and precious glad to get there.'
"'You like your bed, Sophy?'
"'Rather.'
"'And you sleep well?'
"'You bet!'
"'Did you sleep better or worse than usual last night?'
"'No better, and no wus.'
"'Did you wake up in the night?'
"'Not me!'
"'Then you heard no noise?'
"'Where?'
"'Anywhere.'
"'I didn't 'ear nothink. 'Ow could I?'
"'Thank you, Sophy. That is all for the present.'
"'I say,' cried Sophy, as our reporter was about to leave the kitchen, 'you'll take my pickcher, won't you?'
"'I'll think about it. I'll see you another time, Sophy; and look here,' added our reporter, who is never known to throw a chance away, 'here's my card; take care of it, and if you find out anything that you think I'd like to know about M. Felix, come and tell me, and you shall be well paid for it. You'll not forget?'
"'No, I won't forgit. Anythink about M. Felix, do you mean?'
"'Yes, anything.'
"'All right, old 'un. I'll choo it over.' Here Sophy dropped her voice, and asked, 'Is Aunt outside?'
"'Yes. Can you keep a secret?'
"'Try me,' said Sophy, holding out the little finger of her left hand.
"'What am I to do with this?'
"'Pinch my nail as 'ard as you can. Never mind 'urting me. As 'ard as ever you can.
"Our reporter complied, and Sophy went audibly through the entire