"Some part of it won't do. He must read the whole proclamation, not forgetting 'God save the King.'"
"If you can find the paper," said I, "there's a lump of mud on it, marking the place where he left off."
The Captain grinned again. "I doubt he'll have to begin afresh after breaking off to drink brandy-and-water with Moll Whiteaway. For a chief magistrate that will need some explaining. And yet," mused the Captain, as he stepped into the passage, "you may have done him a better turn than ever you guessed; for, when the mob sees the humour of it, belike it'll be more for laughing than setting fire to his house."
"But who is Moll Whiteaway?" I asked.
He stared at me. "You mean to say you didn't know?" he asked slowly.
"You didn't bring him here for a joke?"
"A joke?" I echoed. "A mighty queer joke, sir, you'd have thought it, if your men had been five minutes earlier."
He leaned back against the wall of the passage. "And you brought him here by accident? Well, if this don't beat cock-fighting!"
"But who is this Moll Whiteaway?" I repeated.
The question again seemed to take his breath away. For answer he could only point to a small brass plate in the lower flap of the door; and, stooping, I read: Miss Whiteaway, Milliner, Modes and Robes.
"Oh!" said I. "That accounts for the band-box of flowers."