Robert hurried away and turned a corner. Then he stopped to listen to what could still be heard from this distance. If it was up to the sot he called father, that would probably be quite a lot.

"You see? See how he doesn't listen to his own fasher?" He gave a hiccup and another little sob. He gave a drunken look to the constable and a big sigh. "Why exactly are you here, Constable?" He wavered in his chair.

"Yer wife, Mrs Carrington, came to the station sir. She said there had been an altercation here at the house this evening. Involving yerself and she." Bert began.

His language was official, yet circular. The enunciation of his letters deliberate, precise. The copper was dancing around the truth, expertly beating around the bush. No direct accusation of guilt. After all, Magnus Carrington was a person of import in this town, to be treated as Raglin had said like a delicate flower.

"I think it best if ye come down to the station, sir. To assist us in our inquiries."

"Has she told you all of it then? How cruel she is to me?" He squinted, "I grabbed her but she wasn't listening to me. I didn't mean to hurt her, I have never done it before until now. And while I am sorry I grabbed her, I wish she would listen. I'll go but can't it wait until I can at least walk, constable? As you can s... see... I am a little... indisposed at the moment."

It was a terrible thing for a wife to disrespect her husband, but striking a lady was beyond the pale, no matter the size of your bank balance.

"I understand, sir." he turned his attention away from the old man "Right. You." Bert pointed at the younger Carrington. "You are to present your father at the station tomorrow to discuss this. Fail to appear, I'll charge both a ye with obstruction and absconding and I'll make you wish they still transported people to Australia. Understand?"

Oh shoot, he thought he was well hidden behind his corner. Robert considered sneaking away, but if the constable sprinted over and saw him, he might actually fulfil his warning. It was preposterous, some gutter rat tucked in a uniform talking to a Carrington like this. But it did go very well, and so he made sure to look intimidated when he stepped out and walked back to the room they were in. "Yes sir. If he'll cooperate." He stopped at a save distance to his father.

"I will, you have my word," he muttered darkly. He was just... overwhelmed by everything and wanted to get drunker still. His eyes were on his son, who should have been the pride of his loins, seeing as he had two replicas. As a man, he should have been proud of all of his children, and not even young Pearl got away unscathed by his anger. What had become of him?

"Right then." Albert said. He scribbled in his note book Carrington's solemn promise to appear. His duty done, he could go home. The faster he left this house the better, he found the brashness of the wealth on display rather vulgar. Not to mention the attitude of the occupants.

"I'll show myself out." the policeman answered. As he strode crisply across the floor, Bert couldn't help but smile at the prospect of the brutal hangover Carrington would have in the morning. The evils of drink did not adhere to class boundaries.

When the constable had left, Robert turned to look at his father with utter disgust. "And you're ashamed of me. At least I've never hurt a woman before. Injured even... Believe me father, I've wanted to respect you."