Jobby, who had accompanied Elcy to view the outside of the Crystal Palace, while the father and mother were inspecting the interior, and who had seen his father carried off by the police, and followed him, with his affrighted sister, to the police-office, was ready at his mother’s call to hurry with the note she had written to Wimbledon Common. Elcy was but of little use; for though Mrs. Sandboys was too much occupied with the thoughts of releasing her husband to display at present much concern for his painful position, the girl could think of nothing else, and sat in the waiting-room of the police court, sobbing aloud, and trembling with fear, lest her father should be injured in any way. The dutiful lad started off at a rapid pace; and though hailed by many an omnibus that was wending his way, they were by far too slow for him; for on he ran, as youths only can run, with his handkerchief tied round his waist, and racing with every cab that came up with him. At length, however, when he had reached Brompton, he was fairly beaten, and was glad to avail himself, spent and out of breath as he was, of the first omnibus that passed him. Scarcely half-an-hour after this, he was pulling violently at the gate-bell of their temporary lodgings. The impatience of the summons brought Miss Wewitz rapidly down from the linen-room, wherein she had safely locked Miss Chutney, having this time assured herself, by carefully examining every cupboard and hole and corner in the place, that she was “all alone.” Mrs. Wewitz had no sooner made herself acquainted with the purport of the letter, than she informed her daughter of the shocking news it contained. “Here! Mr. Sandboys is in prison, on suspicion of robbery, and wants us to come and speak to his respectability! Well, really,” exclaimed the old lady, “I can’t think what’s come to all the people of late! What do you think, my dear Di?—would it be prudent, now, for us, situated as we are, to mix ourselves up in the matter?” “Pr-r-rudent!” echoed Miss Diana Wewitz, who was certainly not in the humour to grant favours—“in the first place, pray let me ask you what we know of the Sandboys? They say they have come from Cumberland; but what proof have we of the fact? How, then, could you, dear mother, lay your hand on your heart, and swear before a magistrate that you believe Mr. Sandboys to be a perfect gentleman? And very respectable it would be, indeed, to have it published in all the morning papers, that the lady of Parthenon House Establishment for Young Ladies had appeared at a police-office to speak to the character of a person detained on suspicion of robbery, and of whom it turned out, on cross-examination (for the counsel would be sure to cross-examine you severely) she knew nothing whatever, and very probably, under the excitement of the moment, you would get so confused, that you’d swear to almost anything that was asked you, and so lay yourself open to be indicted for wilful and corrupt perjury.”