“Clothes. Want to see ’em? You can look.”
“Come, no nonsense, Thisbe! You don’t like me, I know.”
“I hate the sight of you!” said the woman stoutly. “So you may; but look here, you may as well understand that in future I shall be master here, and for your own sake you had better be friends. Now then, where are you going?”
“Into town, I tell you; and I shall send for my box. It’s corded up in my room.”
“Why, what do you mean?” he said.
“That I’m going, and I’m not coming back; and you two may drink yourselves to death as soon as you like.”
She brushed by him, and before he had recovered from his surprise, she was going down the path towards the gate.
A thought struck Crellock, and he ran upstairs to the room Thisbe had occupied, and, sure enough, there was the big chest she had brought with her, corded up tightly, and with a direction-card tacked on, addressed, “Miss Thisbe King. To be called for.”
“So much the better,” he said joyously; “that woman had some influence with Mrs Hallam, and might have been unpleasant.”
That day he went down the town to one of his haunts, and after a good deal of search found out that Thisbe was in the place, and had taken a small cottage in one of the outskirts. So, satisfied with his discovery, he returned, to find a man with a pony and dray on his way up to the house, where he claimed the box for its owner, and soon after bore it away.