“To be sure I can, sir. Here, you, constable, stop there with my sentry at the porch, and if you see a Frenchman bolt, you shout.”
As he spoke, the man backed Gusset into the hall, for he was following into the drawing-room, making him open his thick lips in fish like fashion once again as if to speak; but a prod in the ribs given by the sergeant’s forefinger forced obedience, and he went out unwillingly into the porch.
The sergeant returned to Waller, who was standing in the middle of the room with his hands in his pockets, whistling an old country ditty softly, while the two soldiers made a pretence of searching the room, and then looked for orders from their officer.
“You haven’t looked up the chimney, my lads,” cried Waller, laughing. “Oh, you needn’t stare; there’s plenty of room in it for a horse to get up,” and he laughingly stepped forward into the wide chimney-corner. “Look here, officer, you don’t often see a place like this.”
“My word, no, sir!” said the sergeant, stooping down and following Waller into the great wide place. “They used to build in the old days, and make room for the smoke. Why, the ivy’s hanging right down through the top.”
“Yes,” said Waller: “plenty of ivy here. Now you’d like to see the library?”
This was looked into, and then a slight search was made of what Waller called the schoolroom, and a little, old-fashioned boudoir.
“That’s all here,” said the boy, “except the servant’s places.”
“What about the cellar, sir?” said the sergeant.
“Oh, we’ll go into that through the outer hall,” and, Waller, leading the way, the searchers passed through the various offices, and, on lights being provided and a big key being fetched from the squire’s study table, the big, crypt-like, vaulted cellars were searched from end to end. Lastly, Waller led the way upstairs to the gallery, where the oaken polished floor echoed to the soldiers’ heavy tread.