"Oh!" cried Mr. Somers, "property is no longer respected,—ah! what times we've fallen in!"
"How many folks have you in the house?"
"The servants sleep in the fourth story, over Evelyn's room. The housekeeper sleeps under Evelyn's room, and my room and the room of my private secretary are just above where I am sitting."
"Good. Now take the candle, and come," responded Blossom, "we want you as a witness."
The merchant prince made many signs of hesitation,—winking his heavy lids, rubbing his low forehead with both hands, and pressing his pointed chin between his thumb and forefinger,—but Blossom seized the candle, and made toward the door.
"You are not going to leave me in the dark?" cried Mr. Somers, bounding from his chair.
"Not if you follow the light," responded Blossom; "by-the-by, you may as well bring the keys to Evelyn's room."
With a trembling hand, Mr. Somers lifted a huge bunch of keys from the table.
"There, open all the rooms on the second and fourth floors," he said, and followed Blossom into the hall.
There, shoulder to shoulder, stood six stout figures, in glazed caps and great coats of rough, dark-colored cloth, with a mace or a pistol protruding from every pocket. They stood as silent as blocks of stone.