They were Rupert's! Yes, undoubtedly they were Rupert's boots. What brought them there? Rupert could not pass through thick walls and barred up doors. Mr. Chattaway, completely taken back, stooped and stared at the boots as if they had been two curious animals.
A faint sound interrupted him. It was the approach of the first servant coming down to her day's work; a brisk young girl called Bridget, who acted as kitchenmaid.
"What brings these boots here?" demanded Mr. Chattaway, in the repelling tone he generally used to his servants.
Bridget advanced and looked at them. "They are Mr. Rupert's, sir," answered she.
"I did not ask you whose they were: I asked what brought them here. These boots must have been worn yesterday."
"I suppose he left them here last night; perhaps came in at this door," returned the girl, wondering what business of her master's the boots could be.
"Perhaps he did not," retorted Mr. Chattaway. "He did not come in at all last night."
"Oh yes, he did, sir. He's in his room now."
"Who's in his room?" rejoined Mr. Chattaway, believing the girl was either mistaken or telling a wilful untruth.
"Mr. Rupert, sir. Wasn't it him you were asking about?"