"Don't be rash, Gilbert," observed he, calmly tying the strings of the portfolio.
"Bash!" muttered Gilbert, between his closed teeth. "I tell you, they have discovered the hiding-place!"
"Have they? Then it was fortunate that I thought of dining to-day with Mr. Passmore."
"Father Cuthbert, do you care for nothing on earth?" said Gilbert, raising his voice.
"Gilbert," remarked Mr. Stevens, in his most placid manner, "I have already desired you not to be too rash. Allow me to remind you, that calling me 'Father Cuthbert' in a Protestant house, and especially in that tone of voice, is scarce likely to advance our interests. As to my caring for nothing on earth, I shall care to hear your information, when you can deliver yourself of it in a reasonable manner."
Gilbert, with some difficulty repressing his indignation, came to the conclusion that the being before him was inaccessible to feeling.
"When I arrived at the well," said he, "I was very near falling into it. I"—
"Ah! rash, as usual," commented Stevens, affectionately patting the portfolio.
"I lighted safely on the ledge of the door," pursued Gilbert, "but when I gave the necessary push, I found that it refused to stir. It had been made up from the inside."
"Something underneath the door, which stuck, of course," said Stevens.