The house was stone still, and no noise came, save always the wind’s same cheerless blowing.
“How much more of this before they will awaken?” exclaimed Geoffrey, in indignation. “’Tis a scandal people should sleep so.”
“They are saying their prayers,” said Sir Francis.
“It is a pity thou art such a miscreant,” Geoffrey said, heartily; “otherwise I could sweat myself into a good-humour with thee.”
But Sir Francis replied with coldness, “It is easy for the upper hand to laugh.”
“We must at it again,” said Geoffrey; “and this time I will let them hear thou art conquered.” The din and hubbub recommenced. And Mistletoe could hear it where she quaked inside her closet holding the door with both hands. And the Baron could hear it. He was locked in the bath-room, dreadfully sorry he had not gone to the Crusade. Quite unknowingly in his alarm he had laid hold of a cord that set going the shower-bath; but he gave no heed at all to this trifle. And every man and woman in the house heard the riot, from the scullion up through the cook to Popham, who had unstrapped his calves before retiring, so that now his lean shanks knocked together like hockey-sticks. Little Whelpdale, freezing in his shirt-tail under the bed, was crying piteously upon all Saints to forget about his sins and deliver him. Only Miss Elaine standing in her room listened with calm; and she with not much, being on the threshold of a chance that might turn untoward so readily. Presently a victorious shouting came from far down through the dark.
“He is mine!” the voice bellowed. “I have laid him low. The Dragon is taken.” At this she hastened to summon Sir Godfrey.
“Why, where can he be?” she exclaimed, stopping in astonishment at his room, empty and the door open wide.
Down in the cellar the voice continued to call on all people to come and see the Dragon of Wantley. Also Elaine heard a splashing and dripping that sounded in the bath-room. So she ran to the door and knocked.
“You can’t come in!” said the Baron angrily.