For a while the scraping, metallic sounds continued steadily, then abruptly ceased as though the unseen meddler had been interrupted.
A voice—evidently the voice of the lock-picker—pitched to a cautious key, was heard in protest as though objecting to some intentions evident in the new arrival. Whispered expostulations continued for a while, then the voices became quarrelsome and louder; and somebody suddenly rapped on the door.
Then a thick, soft voice that he recognised with a chill, grew angrily audible:
“I say to you, steward, that I forbid you to entaire that room. I forbid you to disturb thees yoong lady. Do you know who I am?”
“I don’t care who you are––”
“I have authority. I shall employ it. You shall lose your berth! Thees yoong lady within thees room ees my fiancée! I forbid you to enter forcibly––”
“Haven’t I knocked? Wot’s spilin’ you? I am 251 doing my duty. Back away from this ’ere door, I tell you!”
“You spik thees-a-way, so impolite––”
“Get out o’ my way! Blime d’you think I’ll stand ’ere jawin’ any longer?”
“I am membaire of Parliament––”