“I wonder where this man sleeps?” he murmured.
“Haven’t the slightest idea,” returned the gipsy.
“No matter, it’s as well to be prepared, however,” he muttered, drawing his revolver from his coat pocket. “I never have recourse to this, except in extreme difficulty,” said he.
“Ah, don’t settle anyone’s hash,” cried the gipsy, moving forward.
“Don’t you come in—leave it to me. You can’t slide about so silently as I can. Don’t you come in unless you hear me give the alarm. Wait and watch just inside the passage and keep guard over the door.”
“All right. On yer goes then.”
Peace did go on. In one of the rooms on the basement, he found a man and his wife in bed, fast asleep. He did not, of course, attempt to disturb their slumbers, but assuring himself first of all that they were actually asleep, he withdrew, closing the door gently after him.
He then inserted into it some of his long thin screws, so that the porter and his wife, if they should by any chance be disturbed, would find themselves close prisoners in their bedchamber.
It was not at all likely they could break open the door before our hero and the gipsy had got clean off.
Having performed this little bit of business in a way which was satisfactory to himself, Peace proceeded upstairs into the warerooms.