“You may leave this oil-lamp burning, Jerry,” added Badger, as he seized Patsy by the collar and marched him toward the door. “We may have to come out here again.”
“I’ll not put it out.”
“But secure this door after you.”
“Sure! D’ye think I’m daffy enough to leave it open?”
With the last remark, Conley came out of the basement and closed the heavy door, leaving the entire place only dimly lighted by the oil-lamp on the wall.
Seen from outside, the whole stable appeared shrouded in darkness.
As the three started across the lawn toward the house, with Patsy in the grip of both men, the huge bloodhound came bounding over the grass as if to accompany them—or to make a finish of Patsy.
Badger quickly checked him, however, sternly commanding:
“Be off, Pluto! Away with you, and watch out, you brute! Watch out, I say!”
The dog appeared to understand. He dropped his black nose to the ground, vented one short, sharp yelp, then coursed away with the speed of a deer, hither and thither, and finally toward the belt of woods darkly outlined against the starry sky at the rear of the broad estate.