Smoothing her apron and setting her cap straight, Mrs. Gollop marched out of the room, Martin following with the candle.
“I’ll talk to him!” said the angry woman, as she began to climb the stairs. “I’ll teach him to come stealing down in the dead of night and poking his nose into the rooms of honest people! I’ll give him a piece of my mind, and his ears will be all of a tingle before he’s done with Susan Gollop!”
Martin noticed with amusement that the higher she got the lower fell the tone of her voice, until by the time she reached Mr. Seymour’s door and knocked, and asked, “Can I speak to you, sir?” her voice was as mild as the cooing of a dove.
There was no answer. She knocked again.
“Mr. Seymour, sir!”
There was still no answer. She waited a moment or two, then summoned up her resolution and turned the handle. To her surprise the door opened. The room was dark.
“Show me a light,” she whispered.
Martin, with the candle, stepped in front of her. A glance showed that the room was empty, except of the furniture and a quantity of litter on the floor.
“Well, I declare!” Susan cried, in loud indignation. “He’s gone, and took all his belongings. There’s a coward for you!”
Among the litter there were a few pieces of paper, suggesting that Mr. Seymour had torn up old letters before he left. Martin, all his suspicions revived, had the curiosity to collect these scraps.