"Come, madam," interrupted the man in black, "you must know a magistrate's warrant cannot be disputed. We would not be uncivil to a lady, but enter we must."
"Oh, come in, come in!" cried Audrey, throwing the door wide. "You can see all there is to see; and there are my keys," flinging them with a clash on the kitchen table, "only if you come on the Inglethorpe ghosts in searching the house, pray take it not as a sign that I am their murderer, neither if you find my father's clothes, hold them for the Sunday suit of a highwayman."
One of the constables picked up the keys with a subdued air, and looked at the leader for further direction.
"Yes, we must not delay. You know something of the house, Catlin; you lead the way;" and he prepared to pass into the front part of the house.
A thought struck Audrey; she could be sure that the constables would be too stupid and too much afraid of the well-known Inglethorpe ghosts to search over-curiously; but this little man with his ferret face and sharp eyes was dangerous; it might be wise to distract his attention.
"Stay, sir," she said, as he was following the men out of the kitchen. "May I ask to whom I am speaking? I see, of course, you are no constable."
"My name is Robert Reed, at your service, madam, clerk to Justice Tomkins," he replied.
He had regained some confidence on observing the shabby clothes of the young lady, and the poverty-stricken air of the house.
"Mr. Reed," she said, making a curtesy, "you are but late come to these parts, so I should ask your pardon for being so warm. 'Tis no fault of yours that Justice Tomkins is wanting in that courtesy due to a lady."
Mr. Reed bowed in some embarrassment. "But, madam, 'tis the duty of every magistrate to be on his guard against the pestilent knaves who are roaming through the land, plotting and contriving against the present happy settlement."