The letter was sent to Mr Walker. 'He knows himself to be innocent,'
said the poor wife, writing what best excuse she how to make, 'and
thinks that he should take no step himself in such a matter. He will not
employ a lawyer, and he says that he should prefer that he be sent for,
if the law requires his presence at Silverbridge on Thursday.' All this
she wrote, as though she felt that she ought to employ a high tone in
defending her husband's purpose; but she broke down altogether in a few
words of the postscript. 'Indeed, indeed I have done what I could!' Mr
Walker understood it all, both the high tone and the subsequent fall.

On the Thursday morning, at about ten o'clock, a fly stopped at the gate
at Hogglestock Parsonage, and out of it came two men. One was dressed in
ordinary black clothes, and seemed from his bearing to be a respectable
man of the middle class of life. He was, however, the superintendent of
police for the Silverbridge district. The other man was a policeman,
pure and simple, with the helmet-looking hat which has lately become
common, and all the ordinary half-military and wholly disagreeable
outward adjuncts of the profession. 'Wilkins,' said the superintendent,
'likely enough I shall want you, for they tell me the gent is uncommon
strange. But if I don't call you when I come out, just open the door
like a servant and mount up on the box when we're in. And don't speak
nor say nothing.' then the senior policeman entered the house.

He found Mrs Crawley sitting in the parlour with her bonnet and shawl
on, and Mr Crawley in the arm-chair, leaning over the fire. 'I suppose
we had better go with you,' said Mrs Crawley directly the door was
opened; for of course she had seen the arrival of the fly from the
window.