"I hope for your
sake you haven't been saying to anybody else what you said to me just
now."
Mr. Grummit shook his head. "Not a word," he faltered.
"That's all right, then," said Mr. Evans. "I shouldn't like to be hard
on a neighbour; not that we shall be neighbours much longer."
Mr. Grummit, feeling that a reply was expected of him, gave utterance to
a feeble "Oh!"
"No," said Mr. Evans, looking round disparagingly. "It ain't good enough
for us now; I was promoted to sergeant this morning. A sergeant can't
live in a common place like this."
Mr. Grummit, a prey to a sickening fear, drew near the fence again. "A--
a sergeant?" he stammered.
Mr. Evans smiled and gazed carefully at a distant cloud. "For my bravery
with them burglars the other night, Grummit," he said, modestly. "I
might have waited years if it hadn't been for them."
He nodded to the frantic Grummit and turned away; Mr. Grummit, without
any adieu at all, turned and crept back to the house.
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Constable's Move, by W.W. Jacobs
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