“Solomon! open this door directly—it is I, the dean.”
“Good dear sir!” said Solomon, apparently asleep, and fumbling for the keys of the college gates—“let you out? O yes, sir—directly.”
“Listen to me, Solomon: I am not going out. Did you let any one out just now—just before I called you?”
“No, sir; nobody whatsomdever.”
“Solomon! I ask you, did you not, just now, let a woman out?”
“Lawk! no, sir—Lord forbid!” said Solomon, now thoroughly wakened.
“Now, Solomon, bring your light, and come with me; this must be inquired into. I saw a woman run this way, and if she is not gone through the gate, she is gone into this next number. Whose rooms are in No. 13?”
“There’s Mr Dyson’s, sir, on the ground-floor.”
Mr Dyson was the very fellow who had called at Challoner’s rooms. “Hah! well, I’ll call Mr Dyson up. Whose besides?”