“No, constable; there’s no spy here, French or English. It’s all a mare’s nest, and you have brought us for nothing.”
The constable’s reply sent a pang through Waller, and brought him down to zero.
“But you haven’t been out on the roof?”
“No,” said the sergeant mockingly, “nor we haven’t been up the chimney. My lads are neither sweeps nor tilers. Think he’s flown up there?”
“No,” said the constable with asperity; “but I think you haven’t half searched. Maybe he’s hiding somewhere up in the ivy.”
“Ho!” said the sergeant sharply. “Like a cock-sparrow or a rat, eh? I tell you I have searched the place, and I have done.”
“And I tell you you haven’t half searched,” cried the constable. “You must get ladders and go all over the roof. I daresay he’s hiding in the ivy.”
“Beg pardon, sergeant,” said one of the men. “Didn’t the good gentleman say something about some lunch?”
“To be sure I did,” said Waller, “and it will be ready in the kitchen by now.”
“Thank you, sir,” said the sergeant grumpily. “I suppose we shall be obliged to have a look at the roof from outside. I don’t want to be reported to my captain for not having done my duty. But look here, Mr Constable,” and to Waller’s great relief the man turned his back upon him and faced Gusset, while the boy felt as if he was turning white, and his hands grew moist. “You gave information,” continued the sergeant, “and it seems to me that this is more your job than mine. How are we to get up on the roof?”