Perkwite?"
"Whatever can any of them be doing there!" muttered Perkwite. "Viner!
What business can he have in this place? It seems--by George,
Millwaters," he suddenly exclaimed, "what if this is some infernal
plant--trap--something of that sort? Do you know, in spite of what you
say, I really think we ought to get hold of the nearest police and
tell them--"
"Wait, Mr. Perkwite!" counselled Millwaters. "Our governor is a pretty
cute and smart sort, and he's vastly interested in this Miss Wickham; so
Portlethwaite and he'll be on their way down here now, hot foot; and with
help, too, if he thinks she's in any danger. Now, _he_ can go straight to
that door and demand to see her, and--"
"Why can't we?" interrupted Perkwite. "I'd do it! Lord, man, she may be
in real peril--"
"Not while Viner's in there," said Millwaters quietly. "I might possibly
have gone and rung the bell myself, but for that. But Viner's in
there--wait!"
And Perkwite waited, chafing, at the corner of the dismal street, until a
quarter of an hour had passed. Then a car came hurrying along and pulled
up as Millwaters and his companion were reached, and from it sprang Mr.
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