Mr. Milsom's air of jolly good-fellowship disappeared: he sprang up
suddenly, went to his friend, and shook him, rather roughly for such
friendship.
Matthew snored a little louder, but slept on.
"He's fast as a rock," muttered Black Milsom; "but I must wait till
it's likely Stephen Plumpton will be as sound asleep as this one."
Mr. Milsom went to his kitchen and ordered his only servant--a sturdy
young native of the village--to go off to bed at once.
"I've got a friend in the parlour: but I'll see him out myself when he
goes," said Mr. Milsom. "You pack off to bed as soon as you've put out
the lights in the bar, and shut the back-door."
Mr. Milsom then returned to the apartment where his sleeping guest
reposed.
The coachman's capacious overcoat hung on a chair near where its owner
slept.
Mr. Milsom deliberately put on this coat, and the hat which Mr. Brook
had worn with it. There was a thick woollen scarf of the coachman's
lying on the floor near the chair, and this Black Milsom also put on,
twisting it several times round his neck, so as to completely muffle
the lower part of his face.
He was of about the same height as Matthew, and the thick coat gave him
bulk.
Thus attired he might, in an uncertain light, have been very easily
mistaken for the man whose clothes he wore.
Mr. Milsom gave one last scrutinizing look at the sleeping coachman,
and then extinguished the candle.
Pages:
614
615
616
617
618
619
620
621
622
623
624
625
626
627
628
629
630
631
632
633
634
635
636
637
638