“All right,” thought Susan, “you can hang yourself up there, if you like.”
Then, going out of the room door, she locked it, put the key in her pocket, and went down-stairs.
“Now,” said she to Jenny, who had been left on guard below, “I have locked that young rascal in the cockloft, and I intend to keep him there till Joel, or some one of the others, comes home. You heard him threaten me, and I’m sure there’s no law against my keeping him shut up till there’s a boy or a man about the house. I know he is none too good to take something, and carry it away with him.”
To these remarks Jenny assented heartily, being thankful that something had occurred to make Susan forget to scold her for having allowed the French boy to come in at the front door.
As the housekeeper went about her work she felt pretty well satisfied with the events of the morning. She hoped that the boys would bring Mr. Godfrey back with them, and was glad to think that in that case the young Frenchman would be on hand to be dealt with as he deserved.
She was also glad that Phil had taken Old Bruden to Mr. Godfrey. Susan was not a superstitious woman as a general thing, but the few notions of the kind she had were strongly rooted in her mind, and she believed that Mr. Berkeley would be more completely master of the situation if he had that gun.
Like most persons who hold superstitious ideas, she had but slight reasons for her belief, but she knew that the former owners of the gun had been masters in their establishments when they kept possession of it, and had ceased to be such when they let it go from them. And this, she believed, would be the case now. Above all things, she feared to have the gun fall into the hands of Emile Touron.
As for that young gentleman, he was quite busily employed for some time after Susan left him. He hung the bell on one of the upright projections which were ranged along the four sides of the roof, and which had been originally placed there to support the bells, which had been the delight of the heart of the old tea-merchant, Mr. Godfrey’s father. These bells were made of very light metal, so that they would easily swing in the wind, and the strong breeze which was blowing made this one ring quite to Emile’s satisfaction.
But one bell was not enough. He wanted to hang several of them, and then go below to listen to the effect. Years before, he had been greatly entertained by these bells, which had fixed themselves in his memory as the principal characteristic of the place, and he was anxious to enjoy again the pleasant sensation.
He was so full of his work that, when he went down-stairs again, he did not notice that the door of the loft was shut. He brought up two bells this time, and hung them. Two or three more, he thought, would be enough, and then he would go down on the lawn and hear them ringing in the wind. But, descending again, he noticed the closed door. He ran to it and tried to open it, but it was of no use. He rattled the door-handle, he shouted, he kicked, but no one came.