Читать книгу The Man Who Lost Himself онлайн

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A knock came to the door.

Jones took the key from his pocket and opened the door.

“The constable is here, my Lord,” said the servant.

“Tell him to come in,” said Jones.

Voles had taken up his hat again, and he stood now by the table, hat in hand, looking exactly what he was, a criminal on his defence.

The constable was a fresh-looking and upstanding young man; he had removed his helmet and was carrying it by the chin strap. He had no bludgeon, no revolver, yet he impressed Jones almost as much as he impressed the other.

“Officer,” said Jones. “I have called you in for the purpose of giving this man in charge for attempting—”

“Stop,” cried Voles.

Then something Oriental in his nature took charge of him. He rushed forward with arms out, as though to embrace the policeman.

“It is all a mistake,” cried he, “constable, one moment, go outside one moment, leave me with his lordship. I will explain. There is nothing wrong, it is all a big mistake.”

The constable held him off, glancing for orders at Jones.