‘Yes, yes,’ said Mr. Britain, giving her his pipe to knock the ashes out of it; ‘I’ll stand by you. Hark! That’s a curious noise!’
‘Noise!’ repeated Clemency.
‘A footstep outside. Somebody dropping from the wall, it sounded like,’ said Britain. ‘Are they all abed up-stairs?’
‘Yes, all abed by this time,’ she replied.
‘Didn’t you hear anything?’
‘No.’
They both listened, but heard nothing.
‘I tell you what,’ said Benjamin, taking down a lantern. ‘I’ll have a look round, before I go to bed myself, for satisfaction’s sake. Undo the door while I light this, Clemmy.’
Clemency complied briskly; but observed as she did so, that he would only have his walk for his pains, that it was all his fancy, and so forth. Mr. Britain said ‘very likely;’ but sallied out, nevertheless, armed with the poker, and casting the light of the lantern far and near in all directions.
‘It’s as quiet as a churchyard,’ said Clemency, looking after him; ‘and almost as ghostly too!’