A Little World

by George Manville Fenn

D. Wragg opened the back-room door at this moment, to glance out hastily, when seeing who it was, he re-closed the door and waited till his lodgers had gone up-stairs, when his head once more appeared like that of a rat from its hole, and he listened till all was still before again closing his door.

Silence fell upon the house at last; not, though, that all its inmates were at rest, for Canau lay for long enough sleepless, and turning over thought after thought. D. Wragg, too, was rather uneasy that night, while to Janet the hours dragged heavily on.

At last, though, in spite of her agitation, Janet was sleeping soundly, while, soon after daybreak, D. Wragg was astir, to gently draw up his blind and inspect the morning, a proceeding that did not seem to prove highly satisfactory, for he groaned more than sighed, shook his head, jerked about as he crossed the room, and then, without his boots, he stepped into the passage, and began to climb the stairs, pausing, though, upon each landing, to listen whether any one else were stirring.

But as far as he could judge, every one was sunk in that sound slumber of early morn,—Mrs Winks loudly announcing her state as he passed her door.

There seemed to be a great deal of indecision, though, in D. Wragg’s movements; his haltings were many, and the cautious manner in which he peered about seemed to indicate that the errand upon which he was bound was one of no trivial import.

At last, though, he climbed to the top, stood listening for awhile, and then entered the attic, closing the door carefully behind him, but apparently taking no steps to make it fast.

D. Wragg had not been out of sight five minutes, before there was the soft grating noise of a key turning in the wards of a lock; then there was a loud crack, and a door below opened to give exit to Monsieur Canau, who stood in the doorway listening for a few moments, and then, shoes in hand, descended softly and swiftly to the bottom of the house. On reaching the cellar-kitchen, he lit a candle, and after unbolting a door, passed under the area grating, with his pinched old hat held lanthorn-wise over the candle; and then, drawing open a second door, he entered a large cellar, in one corner of which was the small stock of coals in use for the house, and in another the ashes and refuse.

But Monsieur Canau had hardly a look for these; he merely glanced round the place, and then drew back the fastening of the inner cellar, one which seemed to extend far beneath the street.

His candle flickered here, and burned dimly for a few moments, as he walked backwards and forwards in the cobwebbed, vaulted place, holding his candle low down, and examining the reeking floor, particularly in one spot—the furthest corner from the door. This he scraped a little with his hands, then stamped upon several times; held the candle down to see what impression his feet had made; and then, taking up a rough piece of wood, he carefully drew it backwards and forwards over where he had stamped, and lastly, extinguished his candle. He then closed the cellar doors, crossed the area, and, after leaving all below as he had found it, hurried up-stairs once more, but, in spite of his years, with all the activity of a boy.

He stopped by his own room, entered it for a few moments, and then reappeared, to step up softly to the attic landing, where he again paused to listen attentively for fully five minutes. But though Mrs Winks was as stertorous as ever in her breathing, not another sound was to be heard in the house; and laying his hand upon the attic latch, Canau raised it very gently, not the eighth of an inch at a time, coaxing the door, as it were, to open without noise, till, by slow degrees, he had pressed it back sufficiently far to allow the passage of his head, when, cautiously inserting it to peer round, the door was pressed back upon his neck, holding it between the edge and the door-jamb, while, within a few inches, and gazing malignantly into his eyes, he found himself suddenly confronted by D. Wragg.