But though he spoke calmly there was a curious twitching at the corners of the boy’s eyes and his nether lip seemed to quiver as the stiff, keen-looking man marched to the casement and leaned out, looking sharply to right and left.
“Don’t see any bits, sir, lying below,” he said with a grim laugh. “No one seems to have jumped out there. My word! You grow a fine lot of ivy about this house, but I suppose it wasn’t planted yesterday.—Now, then, forward, my lads!” he continued; and then, with a laugh and a nod to Waller, he jerked his right thumb in the direction of the men. “They are not thinking of catching spies, sir, but about that bread and cheese.”
“Ah, well, they shall have it as soon as you have done,” said Waller, the nerves of whose face had ceased to twitch.
“Oh, we have done, sir,” said the man, “and glad of it. This is not the sort of thing I like. Don’t seem proper work for soldiers. I have done, sir, unless you have any other place you want us to search.”
“Oh, not I,” said Waller. “I shall be glad to see your backs.”
The men began to descend, while Waller carefully locked the door and pocketed his key.
“I don’t like servants to meddle with my knick-knacks,” he said.
“Of course you don’t, sir. I used to be very fond of that sort of thing when I was a boy, in Devon.”
The next minute they were down in the fine old entrance-hall, to be met by Gusset, who bustled forward out of the porch with his protruding eyes rolling a little as he stared hard at the sergeant, and then, misjudging a movement on the part of Waller, he snatched off his hat.
“You ar’n’t found them, then?” he said to the sergeant.