"They cannot," objected the old woman. "Her ladyship is prostrated with grief. His lordship is with her."
"As they please," I returned. "I have nothing more to say—to you."
The creature was driven to bay. She loved the "venomous little brute!" "Would you have something more to say if they did come?" she faltered. "Something about the child?"
"I might," I drawled, "rack my memory for the time when I saw him last."
"You do know where he is!" she squealed.
"I'm afraid," I said, "that I must ask you to leave my room."
She bounced out as if she'd been shot from an air gun!
It was ten o'clock, but light enough for me to see her scuttling along the road as I peered through the window. When she had scuttled far enough, I called to Terry.
"The Scarletts are coming!" I sang to the tune of "The Campbells." "Whether it's maternal instinct or a guilty conscience or what, Madame Defarge has guessed that I've got the child. She'll be doubly sure when Kramm reports my gay quips and quirks. To get here by the shortest and quietest way, the Scarletts must pass your lodgings. The instant you see them, take Jones and race to Dun Moat. When you reach there you'll know what to do. But in case they hide the girl as a Roland for my Oliver, I'm going to play the most beautiful game of bluff you ever saw."
"I wish I could see it!" said Terry.