Ada had ascended to the first landing, to make sure that the culprit did not escape her. Beatrice and Fanny retired into the drawing-room. After a lapse of some ten minutes two cabs rattled up to the door from opposite directions, each driver lashing his horse to gain the advantage. So nearly were they matched, that with difficulty the vehicles avoided a collision. The man who had secured a place immediately in front of the doorsteps, waved his whip and uttered a shout of insulting triumph; his rival answered with volleys of abuse, and drove round as if meditating an assault; it was necessary for the policeman to interfere. Whereupon the defeated competitor vowed that it was sanguinary hard lines; that for the sanguinary whole of this sanguinary day had he waited vainly for a sanguinary fare, and but for a sanguinary stumble of his sanguinary horse-- Tired of waiting, and suspicious of the delay, Ada went up to the room where the servant was supposed to be making ready. It was a little room, which served as night-nursery; by the girl’s bed stood a cot occupied by the child. Ada, exclaiming ‘Now, come along!’ opened the door violently. A candle was burning; the boy, awake but silent, sat up in his cot, and looked about with sleepy, yet frightened eyes. ‘Where are you?’ Emma could not be seen. Astonished and enraged, Ada rushed forward; she found the girl lying on the floor, and after bending over her, started back with a cry half of alarm, half of disgust. ‘Come up here at once!’ she screamed down the staircase. ‘Come up! The wretch has cut her throat!’ There was a rush of feet. Peachey, the first to enter, saw a gash on the neck of the insensible girl; in her hand she held a pair of scissors. ‘I hope you’re satisfied,’ he said to his wife. The police-officer, animated by a brisk succession of events such as he could not hope for every day, raised the prostrate figure, and speedily announced that the wound was not mortal. ‘She’s fainted, that’s all. Tried to do for herself with them scissors, and didn’t know the way to go about it. We’ll get her off sharp to the surgeon.’ ‘It’ll be attempted suicide, now, as well as stealing,’ cried Ada. Terrified by the crowd of noisy people, the child began to cry loudly. Peachey lifted him out of the cot, wrapped a blanket about him, and carried him down to his own bedroom. There, heedless of what was going on above, he tried to soothe the little fellow, lavishing caresses and tender words. ‘My little boy will be good? He’ll wait here, quietly, till father comes back? Only a few minutes, and father will come back, and sit by him. Yes--he shall sleep here, all night--’ Ada burst into the room.