"Ay, I understand—I see it," said the hostess, eagerly drawing her chair nearer to the Captain.
"No, you would never guess," replied Dauntrees, "if you cudgelled your brains from now till Christmas. But I can show you, Mistress Dorothy, better by the acting of the scene. Here, get down on your knees, and let me put your kerchief over your eyes."
"What can that signify?" inquired the dame.
"Do it, mistress—you will laugh at the explosion. Give me the handkerchief. Down, dame, upon your marrow bones:—it is an excellent jest and worth the learning."
The landlady dropped upon her knees, and the Captain secured the bandage round her eyes.
"How many fingers, dame?" he asked, holding his hand before her face.
"Never a finger can I see, Captain."
"It is well. Now stand up—forth and away! That was the word given by the Viewer. Turn, Mistress Dorothy, and grope through the room. Oh, you shall laugh at this roundly. Grope, grope, dame."
The obedient and marvelling landlady began to grope through the apartment, and Dauntrees, quietly opening the door, stole off to the tap-room, where being joined by his comrades, they hied with all speed towards the Fort, leaving the credulous dame floundering after a jest, at least until they got beyond the hail of her voice.
CHAPTER XI.