A moment had not elapsed ere Tim the Snammer was at his heels—the door was forcibly closed—the candle was wrested from the old woman's hand—and she was threatened with throttling if she attempted to raise an alarm.
The two men bound her with a cord, and carried her into the room opening from the passage. They then left her, vowing with terrible oaths to return and "do for her," if she dared make the slightest disturbance.
"There isn't a room on t'other side of the passage, is there, Tim?" demanded Josh of his companion, who carried the light.
"No. And now let's creep up stairs as gentle as if we was mice," said the Snammer.
"You've got your barkers, Tim?" asked Pedler.
"Yes—and a damned good clasp knife too," replied the ruffian, with a significant leer at his accomplice, and speaking in a low whisper. "I don't think we shall find any one else in the house besides that old woman and Ben Bones his-self, 'cause Mutton-Face Sal is a devilish keen one—and she would have found it out if there was any lodgers."
"Well, cut up stairs, Tim," said Josh Pedler, "and don't let us be a-standing here palavering—or the old scamp may overhear us and get out by the back windows, or some such a dodge. I'll go fust, if you like."
"No—I'll go fust, Josh," answered the Snammer; "for it's me that has got the most spite agin the ancient willain."
With these words, Tim Splint crept cautiously up the narrow and dirty staircase, Josh Pedler following close behind him.
The robbers stopped at the door on the first landing, and knocked; but, no answer being returned, they broke it open in a few moments by means of a small stout chisel such as housebreakers are in the habit of using.