There was a pause, and again a loud knocking.
“Old Jaques is in no hurry to let in the strangers,” observed Paul. “He suspects that these are not friends; we must keep our eyes open. Remember what Rosalie told us.”
“Ay, ay, mate, I am not likely to forget what she says,” answered Paddy, who had not quite got over his feeling of annoyance with Paul.
They listened attentively. Those outside were at length admitted, they fancied; but, further than that, they could make out nothing. They waited all ready to jump up and run into their hiding-place, for they were persuaded that this evening visit had reference to them. They heard doors slamming and strange sounds produced by the blast rushing through the passages and windows.
“Yes, I am certain that there is a search going on in the house,” whispered O’Grady. “I hope Mon Oncle won’t get into a scrape on our account, or dear Rosalie,” (he had got to call her “dear” by this time.) “Hark! how the wind roars and whistles.”
There was a door banged not far from the foot of the stairs; it made the whole tower shake. They were silent for a minute, when a bell tinkled. Before it had ceased to vibrate, the midshipmen had started up, and, seizing their bed-clothes, had rushed to the panel. They started through and closed it behind them, but only just in time, for the door opened as the panel closed. What midshipmen were ever in a more delightful situation? They were not frightened a bit, and only wished that they could find some crevice through which they could get a look at the intruders, and O’Grady regretted that they had not a brace or two of pistols with which they could shoot them. They sprang up the ladder only as cats or midshipmen could do, and had placed themselves on the roof, when they heard the clank of sabres and spurs, and the tread of heavy men, and a gleam of light came through a crevice in the wooden ceiling. It was close to Paul’s head, and looking down he saw three gendarmes peering round and round the room. They were evidently at fault, however. Behind them stood old Jaques with a lantern from which he sent the light into every corner of the room. There was a book on the table, and a chair near it.
“Who reads here?” asked one of the men.
“My young mistress, of course,” answered Jaques, promptly.
“She said just now that she was here to attend on her uncle,” remarked the gendarmes.
“So she is, and good care she takes of the old gentleman; but he sleeps sometimes, so I relieve her,” returned Jaques. “She is fond of solitude.”