“Ay. I start for—for Java to-morrow.”
“Java, sir—what, where the sparrows and the jelly—”
“Ay, ay,” returned Malkiel, secretly rehearsing his new nautical role.
“I’ll do it sir. And the hundred?”
“I’ll write you an order on my banker’s. You can trust me. Now let me change my clothes. Quick!”
“They’re in Mr. Vivian’s bedroom, ain’t they?”
Malkiel nodded.
“You must go very soft, sir, because of the old lady. She’s abed, but she might be wakeful, specially to-night. She’s been awful upset. My word, she has!”
“I’ll go as soft as a mouse,” whispered Malkiel. “Show me the way.”
Gustavus advanced on tiptoe towards the staircase, followed by Malkiel, who held Mr. Ferdinand’s clothes together lest they should rustle, and proceeded with the most infinite precaution. In this manner they gained the second floor and neared the bedroom door of Mrs. Merillia. Here Gustavus turned round, pointed to the door, and put his finger to his pouting lips, at the same time rounding his hazel eyes and shaking his powdered head in a most warning manner. Malkiel nodded, held Mr. Ferdinand’s clothes tighter, and stole on, as he thought, without making a sound. What was his horror, then, just as he was passing Mrs. Merillia’s door, to hear a voice cry,—