Which Mr. Boss, translating as instructions to hold his tongue and go, proceeded to obey with alacrity.
Heckett didn’t allow any nonsense from his juniors, and he considered Boss much too flighty and flippant ever to make a sound man of business.
After Boss was gone, Heckett, who now occupied two rooms in a little house over the water, went out and walked down to his old place in Little Queer Street.
He still kept it on, locking the rooms and going there occasionally to look after it.
He had only taken enough of his furniture away to fill his rooms. There were still several old boxes and bundles and odds and ends left. And all these were piled in one room—the back one.
Pushing a box and a heap of rubbish away, Josh had brought a lantern from the inner room and lit it, stooped down, and lifted the trap in the flooring.
It was so well contrived, and the dust and dirt lay over it so thickly and well, that no one would suspect its presence unless accident, as in Gertie’s case, revealed it.
To lift the board Heckett had to insert the blade of his knife and force it up.
When it was open he stooped over, carefully holding the light, and lifted up something near the top.
It was only a small bundle of letters and some papers.