“Never mind, my dear,” persisted the man with the hoarse voice: “we’ll just walk up and pay our respeks to the captain, who is a wery nice genelman no doubt.”
From this conversation the gallant officer learnt that there were two persons enquiring for him, although one only appeared to speak in the matter. His worst suspicions were confirmed: they were bailiffs, come to arrest him on the cognovit given jointly by himself and his inseparable friend Mr. Francis Curtis to those astute gentlemen, Messrs. Rumrigg and Kaysay.
What was to be done? He must dress himself in all possible haste, and fight his way desperately out of the house!
This was his first idea.
But it was so easy to think of dressing—and so difficult to carry the scheme into execution: for, alas! the gallant officer’s unmentionables were at the tailor’s; and he knew that Frank possessed not a second pair!
What, then, was to be done?
Should he surrender himself into the hands of the officers, and be borne ignominiously to Whitecross Street? The thought was ridiculous with such a man as Captain O’Blunderbuss!
Locking his own door, and taking the key with him, he scud up to the top storey, and sought refuge in the bed-chamber of Mrs. Rudd, who, he felt assured, had gone out to market as usual—otherwise she would have been certain to emerge from her parlour below and join in the conversation which had taken place between the bailiffs and the servant-girl.
The captain’s first thought, in thus flying to his landlady’s bed-chamber, was merely to seek refuge there, and leave the officers to suppose that he had gone out. It struck him that they would knock at his door—would force open that door on not receiving any answer—and would then conclude that he really was not at home. In the meantime he should have leisure to decide upon the best means of ultimately avoiding the bailiffs altogether.
But scarcely had he entered Mrs. Rudd’s room when a new and truly magnificent idea suggested itself—or rather, was suggested by the fact that an open cupboard revealed the worthy landlady’s best silk gown, while upon a chest of drawers stood the good woman’s Sunday bonnet, to which she had been putting a new ribband that very morning before she went out. The bonnet, which was of fine straw and of a large shape, was provided with an ample blue gauze veil; for Mrs. Rudd liked to be smart on the Sabbath—if it were only to compete with her female neighbours who attended the “ministry” of the Reverend Emanuel Flummery.