Master Nathaniel felt absurdly disappointed. For one thing, it shocked his sense of dramatic economy that they should have to resort to violence when the same result could have been obtained by a minimum expenditure of energy. Besides, he had so looked forward to showing off his new little trick!
So it was with a rueful sigh that he gave a loud rat-a-tat-tat on the door, calling out, "Open in the name of the Law!"
These words, of course, produced no response, and Mumchance, with the help of the other four, proceeded to put into effect his own pass-word, which was to shove with all their might against the door, two of the hinges of which he had noticed looked rusty.
It began to creak, and then to crack, and finally they burst into ... an empty room. No strange fruit lay heaped on the floor; nothing hung on the walls but a few pieces of faded moth-eaten tapestry. It looked like a room that had not been entered for centuries.
When they had recovered from their first surprise, Master Nathaniel cried fiercely, "They must have got wind that we were after them, and given us the slip, taking their loads of filthy fruits with them, I'll...."
"There's been no fruit here, your Worship," said Mumchance in a voice that he was trying hard to keep respectful; "it always leaves stains, and there ain't any stains here."
And he couldn't resist adding, with a wink to Juniper and Green, "I daresay it's your Worship's having forgotten the pass-word that's done it!" And Juniper and Green grinned from ear to ear.
Master Nathaniel was too chagrined to heed this insolence; but Master Ambrose—ever the champion of dignity in distress—gave Mumchance such a look that he hung his head and humbly hoped that his Worship would forgive his little joke.