“No,” said Wantage. “Not to say trouble. But he displays to remarkable advantage, I will say, nor I don’t hold with hitting him over the head with a cudgel from behind, which was what Kennet done.”
“Oh dear!” exclaimed Miss Grantham, turning pale. “Has he hurt him?”
“Not to signify, he hasn’t. But I would have milled him down, for all he planted me a wisty castor right in the bonebox. What’s to be done now, missie?”
“I must see him,” said Miss Grantham resolutely.
“I’d best come with you, then, and fetch a lantern.”
“I will take a branch of candles down. The servants might notice it if you took the lantern away. But please come with me, Silas!”
“I’ll come right enough, but you’ve no call to be scared, Miss Deb: he’s tied up as neat as a spring chicken.”
“I am not scared,” said Miss Grantham coldly.
She fetched one of the branches of candles from the supper room, and Silas, having instructed one of the waiters to mount guard over the door, led the way down the precipitous stairs to the cellars. He took the big key from her, and flung open the door of Mr Ravenscar’s prison. Mr Ravenscar, looking under frowning brows, was gratified by the vision of a tall goddess in a golden dress, holding up a branch of candles whose flaming tongues of light touched her hair with fire. Not being in a mood to appreciate beauty, he regarded this agreeable picture without any change in his expression.
Miss Grantham said indignantly: “There was no need to leave him with that horrid thing tied round his mouth! No one would hear him in this place, if he shouted for help! Untie ii this instant, Silas!”