"That's a pity!" sighed Mr. Shrig, "still, if it von't go on, it von't. Now, as to a vepping?"
"I have my stick," said Barnabas, holding it up. Mr. Shrig took it, balanced it in his grasp and passed it back with a nod of approval.
"V'y then, sir, I think ve may wenture," said he, and rising, put on his hat, examined the priming of the brass-bound pistol, and taking the nobbly stick under his arm, blew out the candle and crossed to the door; yet, being there, paused. "Sir," said he, a note of anxiety in his voice, "you promise to do eggs-actly vot I say?"
"I promise!"
"Ven I say 'run' you'll run?"
"Yes."
"Then come on, sir, and keep close behind me."
So saying, Mr. Shrig opened the door and stepped noisily out into the narrow court and waited while Barnabas fastened the latch; even then he paused to glance up at the sombre heaven and to point out a solitary star that twinkled through some rift in the blackness above.
"Going to be a fine night for a little walk," said he, "Oliver vill be in town later on."
"Oliver?" inquired Barnabas.