“Did they say what their names were?” enquired the other, turning very pale.
Miss Chiffers shook her head, and then stooped to pick up a hairpin. “One of ’em’s called Dick,” she said, replacing the pin.
“Tell them I’m not at home,” said Flower, hastily, “but that I shall be back at twelve o’clock, See?”
He produced a shilling, and the small girl, with an appreciative nod, left the room, and closed the door behind her. Flower, suffering severely from nervous excitement, heard a discussion in the passage below, and then sounds of a great multitude coming upstairs and opening various doors on its way, in spite of the indignant opposition afforded by the daughter of the house.
“What’s in here?” enquired a well-known voice, as a hand was placed on his door handle.
“Nothing,” said Miss Chiffers; “’ere, you go away, that’s my bedroom. Go away, d’you ’ear?”
There was the sound of a diminutive scuffle outside, then the door opened and a smartly-dressed young man, regardless of the fair form of Miss Chiffers, which was coiled round his leg, entered the room.
“Why, Dick,” said the skipper, rising, “Dick! Thank goodness it’s you.”
“I’ve no doubt you’re delighted,” said Mr. Tipping, coldly. “What are you doing with that knife?”
“I thought it was somebody else,” said Flower, putting it down. “I thought it was another attempt on my life.”