Of course, Philpot declined the tempting offer, and, without another word, Smith walked up to the passage and began pulling away the desks from the parlour door.
Flanagan and one or two of us, sorely perplexed, helped him; the others stood aloof and grumbled or sneered.
The two masters within heard the noise, but neither of them spoke.
At last all was clear, and Smith said, “Now then, you’d better go, you fellows!”
We obeyed him, though reluctantly. Our curiosity as well as our anxiety prompted us to stay. We retired to the end of the passage, where from a distant door we nervously watched Smith turn the key and draw out first one screw then the other from the door that divided him and us from our masters.
At last we saw it open. Smith walked into the room and shut the door behind him. What happened inside we never exactly knew. After half an hour, which seemed to us as long as a day, the three emerged, and walked straight down the passage and up the stairs that led to Miss Henniker’s room. Smith, with the screwdriver, walked in the middle, very solemn and very pale.
Stealthily we crawled up after them, and hid where we could observe what was to follow.
Mr Ladislaw knocked at the Henniker’s door.
“Well?” said a voice within.
The word was mildly spoken, and very unlike the snap to which we had been accustomed in former days.