She went to the edge of the wood and peered across the road.
“There’s a place there,” she said, “with lots of men in. Go’n’ ask them.”
William somewhat reluctantly (for his previous experiences had sadly disillusioned him with human nature in general) went through the trees to the roadside.
He looked back at the white-clad form of Goldilocks.
“Wait for me,” he whispered hoarsely.
Anxious to attract as little notice as possible, he crept on all fours round to the door of the public-house. He poked in his head nervously.
“Please, can some’n——” he began politely, but in the clatter that arose the ghostly whisper was lost. Several glasses and a chair were flung at his head. Amid shoutings and uproar the innkeeper went for his gun, but on his return William had departed, and the innkeeper, who knew the better part of valour, contented himself with bolting the door and fetching sal-volatile for his wife. After a decent interval he unlocked the door and the inmates crept cautiously home one by one.
“A great, furious brute,” they were heard to say. “Must have escaped from a circus——”
“If we hadn’t been quick——”
“We ought to get up a party with guns——”