He sauntered by, he opened some door at the rear. The latch all but clicked, when a hollow but unmistakable sneeze burst from the Head Captain’s surrey. Immediately the door opened again. The man took a step back. All was deathly still, the echoes of their leader’s fateful sneeze alone thrilled the hearts of his anguished followers.
“She knew she should burst if that man stood there much longer.”
“Humph!” muttered a deep voice, “that’s queer. Anybody out there?”
Silence. Silence that buzzed and hummed and roared in the Vicar’s ears.
“Queer—I thought I heard.... Damn queer!” muttered the man. The Lieutenant shuddered. That was a word whose possibilities he hesitated to consider. Piracy is bad enough, heaven knows, but profanity is surely worse.
Again the latch clicked. After an artful pause the nose of the Head Captain appeared, inserted at an inquiring angle between the two sheets that draped the surrey. Cautiously he swung himself down, cautiously he tiptoed toward the others.
“Sst! Sst! All safe!” he whispered. They scrambled out, and a glance at his reserved frown taught them that the recent sneeze must not be mentioned.
Like cats they crept up the stairs, and only the Head Captain’s great presence of mind prevented their falling backward down the flight, for there on the hay before them lay a man stretched at full length, breathing heavily. His face was a deep red in color, and a strong, sweetish odor filled the loft. They turned about at the Head Captain’s warning gesture, and waited while he stole fearfully up and examined the man. When he rejoined them there was a new triumph in his eyes, a greater exaltation in his hurried speech.
“Come here, Lieutenant!”