Part 31 (1/2)

”So am I,” returned the policeman, with a smile, which was lost in the dark.

Now it so happened that Miss Lillycrop, who had been spending that day with Miss Stivergill, had been induced to spend the night also with her friend. Of course these two had much to talk about--ladies generally have in such circ.u.mstances--and they were later than usual in going to bed. Mr Bones was therefore, much against his will, obliged to delay the execution of his plans. Little dreaming that two admirers lay in ambush about fifty yards off, he retired to a dark corner behind a bit of old wall, and there, appropriately screened by a laurel bush, lit his pipe and enjoyed himself.

”My dear,” said Miss Stivergill to her friend about midnight, ”we must go to bed. Do you go up to my room; I'll follow after looking round.”

It was the nightly practice of this lady to go over her premises from cellar to garret, to make quite sure that the servant had fastened every bolt and bar and lock. She began with the cellars. Finding everything right there, she went to the dining-room windows.

”Ha! the gipsy!--unbolted, and the shutters open!” exclaimed Miss Stivergill, fastening the bolt.

”H'm! The old fool,” thought the burglar, observing her tall square figure while thus engaged, ”might as well bolt the door of Newgate with a steel pen. Cottage window-gear is meant for show, not for service, old girl.”

”I look round regularly every night,” observed Miss Stivergill, entering her bedroom, in which Miss Lillycrop usually occupied a chair bed when on a visit to The Rosebud. ”You've no idea how careless servants are (`Haven't I, just?' thought her friend), and although I have no personal fear of burglars, I deem it advisable to interpose some impediments to their entrance.”

”But what would you do if they did get in?” asked Miss Lillycrop, in some anxiety, for she had a very strong personal fear of burglars.

”Oh! I have several little plans for their reception,” replied the lady, with a quiet smile. There's a bell in the corner there, which was meant for the parish church, but was thought to be a little too small.

I bought it, had a handle affixed to it, as you see, and should ring it at an open window if the house were attempted.

”But they might rush in at the door and stop you--kill you even!”

suggested the other, with a shudder.

”Have you not observed,” said Miss Stivergill, ”that I lock my door on the inside? Besides, I have other little appliances which I shall explain to you in the morning, for I scorn to be dependent on a man-servant for protection. There's a revolver in that drawer beside you”--Miss Lillycrop shrank from the drawer in question--”but I would only use it in the last extremity, for I am not fond of taking human life. Indeed, I would decline to do so even to save my own, but I should have no objection to maim. Injuries about the legs or feet might do burglars spiritual as well as physical good in the long-run, besides being beneficial to society.--Now, my dear, good-night.”

Miss Stivergill extinguished the candle as violently as she would have maimed a burglar, and poor Miss Lillycrop's heart leapt as she was suddenly plunged into total darkness--for she was naturally timid, and could not help it.

For some time both ladies lay perfectly still; the hostess enjoying that placid period which precedes slumber; the guest quaking with fear caused by the thoughts that the recent conversation had raised.

Presently Miss Lillycrop raised herself on one elbow, and glared in the direction of her friend's bed so awfully that her eyes all but shone in the dark.

”Did you hear THAT, dear?” she asked, in a low whisper.

”Of course I did,” replied Miss Stivergill aloud. ”Hus.h.!.+ listen.”

They listened and heard ”that” again. There could be no doubt about it--a curious scratching sound at the dining-room window immediately below theirs.

”Rats,” said Miss Stivergill in a low voice.

”Oh! I _do_ hope so,” whispered Miss Lillycrop. She entertained an inexpressible loathing of rats, but compared with burglars they were as bosom friends whom she would have welcomed with a glad shudder.

In a few minutes the scratching ceased and a bolt or spring snapped.

The wildest of rats never made a sound like that! Miss Lillycrop sat bolt up in her bed, transfixed with horror, and could dimly see her friend spring from her couch and dart across the room like a ghostly phantom.

”Lilly, if you scream,” said Miss Stivergill, in a voice so low and stern that it caused her blood to curdle, ”I'll do something awful to you.--Get up!”

The command was peremptory. Miss Lillycrop obeyed.

”Here, catch hold of the bell-handle--so. Your other hand--there--keep the tongue fast in it, and don't ring till I give the word.”

Miss Lillycrop was perfect in her docility.