“Don’t be sarsy, my dear,” growled the bailiff. “Come—here’s a shillin’ for you. Now tell us the truth—ain’t the captain somewhere in the house?”
“Yes—I’m sure he be,” returned the girl; “’cause his breeches is gone to be mended, and his coat and wescutt and cap is in his own room—and I know he ain’t got two suits of clothes. Besides,” she added, sinking her voice to a tone of mysterious confidence—though not so low as to be inaudible to the gallant officer on the stairs above, “his bluchers is down stairs to be blacked—and I’ll swear he ain’t got two pair of them.”
“Then he is in the house,” said the bailiff. “Now, Tom, I tell’ee what we must do. You stay here, and me and the gal will just toddle down stairs and look in the kitchen, and scullery, and sich-like places.”
“Oh! but you must put the lock right first,” exclaimed the girl; “for if missus—Lor! here she is!” added the affrighted servant, in a hurried whisper.
The fact was that the captain, by some awkward and unintentional movement, at that very instant rustled the silk gown loud enough for the sound to catch the ears of the girl and the bailiffs; and he was about to curse his folly, when, finding that all had suddenly become still on the floor below, it instantly struck him that the juvenile servant had imposed silence on the officers for fear her mistress should stop to enquire the cause of their presence and thereby notice the damaged lock.
He was perfectly correct in his conjecture: and, perceiving that the sudden stillness remained unbroken, he boldly descended the stairs—imitating as well as he could the measured walk of the sanctimonious landlady, and treading with feminine lightness in his slippers.
On reaching the landing—the dreaded landing whence opened the room where the officers were concealed with the servant girl—Captain O’Blunderbuss felt a violent inclination to make a precipitate rush down the remainder of the stairs to the bottom: but, fearing that such a proceeding would only lead to his capture, as it was certain to excite an instantaneous suspicion of the truth and a vigorous pursuit in consequence, he pursued his way with measured tread, taking good care to rustle the silk dress as much as possible.
The landing of the first floor was gained in safety: he was descending the last flight—and his escape appeared certain,—when a loud double knock at the front-door echoed through the dwelling.
For an instant the gallant officer was staggered: but a second thought convinced him that it was not his landlady’s knock—and he sped boldly on.
Drawing his veil as closely as possible over his countenance, and tucking the parasol under his arm for the moment, he opened the front-door.