Before he had extracted all the contents of the bag she was back again, once more clinging, clutching, and impeding. He did not strike her again--merely shook her off so violently that she fell to the floor, where she lay for a moment.
In the inner pockets of the bag there were three five-pound notes, together with a tooth-brush and several small articles wrapped up in paper. These he laid on one side, while he carefully examined all the odds and ends that had been packed loose in the bag. Three or four pocket-handkerchiefs, a new piece of scented soap, a pair of nail-scissors--as he looked at each innocent article, he gave a snort.
She had come back, but she had not risen from the ground; while he slowly pursued his investigations she kept quite still, crouching close to his legs, silently waiting.
She could not see what he was doing, but presently she knew that he had begun to unfold the paper from the things she had hidden in the pocket.
"Ah," and he snorted. One of the bits of paper held hairpins; another a side-comb; and another, a bit of trebly folded paper, proved to be an envelope--the envelope of one of the letters that he had sent to her at North Ride Cottage. He looked at the postmark. The postmark told him that the envelope belonged to a letter he had written four days ago.
Then he found what she had put in the envelope before she folded it. It was the return half of a railway ticket, from London to Rodchurch Road--he turned it in his fingers and examined the date on the back of it.
"Last Friday, my lady. Not to-day by any means--and not Manninglea Cross. Issued at Rodchurch Road o' Friday last--the day you come up to London."
"Yes, Will, I won't pretend any more."
She had put her arms round his legs and lifted herself to a kneeling position. "I did come Friday. But don't be angry with me. Don't fly out at me, and I--I'll explain everything."
"May I make so bold 's t'a' ask why you come, without my permission begged for nor given?"
His voice was terrible to hear, so deep and yet so harsh, and vibrating with such implacable wrath.
"Will, I did it for your sake. I thought if I asked permission, you'd say no. So I dared to do it myself--feeling certain as life that you were done for if no help came--and I thought it was my duty to bring you the help if I could."