‘I should think you’d better go and look after your dear Emma. As if I didn’t know what’s been going on! It’s all come out, so you needn’t tell me any lies. You’ve been giving her money. The other servants knew of it; she confessed it herself. Oh, you’re a nice sort of man, you are! Men of your sort are always good at preaching to other people. You’ve given her money--what does _that_ mean? I suspected it all along. You wouldn’t have her sent away; oh no! She was so good to the child--and so good to somebody else! A dirty servant! I’d choose some one better than that, if I was a man. How much has she cost you? As much, no doubt, as one of the swell women in Piccadilly Circus--’ Peachey turned upon her, the sweat beading on his ghastly face. ‘Go!--Out of this room--or by God I shall do something fearful!--Out!’ She backed before him. He seized her by the shoulders, and flung her forth, then locked the door. From without she railed at him in the language of the gutter and the brothel. Presently her shouts were mingled with piercing shrieks; they came from the would-be-suicide, who, restored to consciousness, was being carried down for removal in the cab. Peachey, looking and feeling like a man whom passion had brought within sight of murder, stopped his ears and huddled himself against the bedside. The child screamed in terror. At length came silence. Peachey opened the door, and listened. Below, voices sounded in quiet conversation. ‘Who is down there?’ he called. ‘All of us except Ada,’ replied Beatrice. ‘The policeman said she needn’t go unless she liked, but she _did_ like.’ ‘Very well.’ He ran up to the deserted bedroom, carefully gathered together his child’s day-garments, and brought them down. Then, as well as he could, he dressed the boy. ‘Is it time to get up?’ inquired the little three-year-old, astonished at all that was happening, but soothed and amused by the thought that his father had turned nurse. ‘It isn’t light yet.’ ‘You are going somewhere with father, dear. Somewhere nice.’ The dialogue between them, in sweet broken words such as the child had not yet outgrown, and the parent did not wish to abandon for common speech, went on until the dressing was completed. ‘Now, will my boy show me where his clothes are for going out? His cap, and his coat--’ Oh yes, they were up in the nursery; boy would show father--and laughed merrily that he knew something father didn’t. A few minutes more, and the equipment was completed. ‘Now wait for me here--only a minute. My boy won’t cry, if I leave him for a minute?’ ‘Cry! of course not!’ Peachey descended to the drawing-room, closed the door behind him, and stood facing his sisters-in-law.