"Oh, well, I only—"
"You only! Then only don't. That's the only favour I ask of you, sir, is to only don't."
What extraordinary favour this was, the lady did not condescend to explain any more particulars, but it was quite enough for the husband to understand that a storm was brewing, and to become humble and submissive accordingly.
"Well, my dear, I'm sure I only wish you to do just what you like; that's all, my dear, I'm sure."
"Very good."
After this, she made the most vigorous efforts to get into the attic, and if any one had been there—which at that juncture there was not—they might truly have asked "Who's that knocking at the door?" Finding that all her efforts were ineffectual, she took to peeping through the key-hole, but nothing was to be seen; and then, for the first time, the idea struck her that there was something supernatural about the business, and in a few moments this notion gained sufficient strength to engender some lively apprehensions.
"I tell you what," she said to her husband, "if you don't fetch a constable at once, and have the door opened, and see all about, I'm afraid—indeed I'm quite sure—I shall be very ill."
"Oh, dear—oh, dear."
"It's of no use your standing here and saying 'Oh, dear,' like a great stupid as you are—always was and always will be. Go for a constable, at once."
"A constable?"