‘Who’s there?’ he said, and waited, hardly hoping for an answer, but the voice replied with unexpected directness:
‘That’s a thing I won’t hide from anybody,’ it said vigorously. ‘Daisy May Meade’s my name. A married woman and respectable. A church-going woman too, and there’s some that’s going to suffer for what’s been going on in this house. Both here, and in the next world. The pit shall open and swallow them up. Fire and brimstone shall be their portion. The Lord shall smite them.’
‘Very likely,’ said Abbershaw dryly. ‘But who are you? How did you get here? Is it possible for you to get us out?’
Apparently his calm, matter-of-fact voice had a soothing effect upon the vengeful lady in the next room, for there was silence for some moments, followed by an inquisitive murmur in a less oracular tone.
‘What be you doing of?’
‘We’re prisoners,’ said Abbershaw feelingly. ‘We’ve been shut up here by Mr Dawlish, and are most anxious to get out. Can you help us?’
Again there was silence for some moments after he had spoken, then the voice said considerately, ‘I’ve a good mind to have the door open and have a look at ye.’
‘Good heavens!’ said Abbershaw, startled out of his calm. ‘Do you mean to say that you can open this door?’
‘That I can,’ said the voice complacently. ‘Didn’t I bolt it myself? I’m not having a lot of foreigners running round me. I told the German gentleman so. Oh, they shall be punished. “To the devil you’ll go,” I told them. “Fire and brimstone and hot irons,” I said.’
‘Yes, I know,’ said Abbershaw soothingly, ‘but have you any idea how we can get out?’