‘You bet I’ll yell,—­I’ll raise the hair right off you.’  The fellow grinned.  ’But I don’t know if you gents are hiring me by the day,—­I want to change my horse; he ought to have been in his stable a couple of hours ago.’

’Never mind your horse,—­let him rest a couple of hours extra to-morrow to make up for those he has lost to-day.  I’ll take care you don’t lose anything by this little job,—­or your horse either.—­By the way, look here,—­this will be better than yelling.’

Taking a revolver out of his trousers’ pocket he handed it up to the grinning driver.

’If that old gent of yours does appear, you have a pop at him,—­I shall hear that easier than a yell.  You can put a bullet through him if you like,—­I give you my word it won’t be murder.’

‘I don’t care if it is,’ declared the cabman, handling the weapon like one who was familiar with arms of precision.  ’I used to fancy my revolver shooting when I was with the colours, and if I do get a chance I’ll put a shot through the old hunks, if only to prove to you that I’m no liar.’

Whether the man was in earnest or not I could not tell,—­nor whether Atherton meant what he said in answer.

‘If you shoot him I’ll give you fifty pounds.’

‘All right!’ The driver laughed.  ’I’ll do my best to earn that fifty!’

CHAPTER XXXIX

MISS LOUISA COLEMAN

That the house over the way was tenanted was plain to all the world,—­at least one occupant sat gazing through the window of the first floor front room.  An old woman in a cap,—­one of those large old-fashioned caps which our grandmothers used to wear, tied with strings under the chin.  It was a bow window, and as she was seated in the bay looking right in our direction she could hardly have failed to see us as we advanced,—­indeed she continued to stare at us all the while with placid calmness.  Yet I knocked once, twice, and yet again without the slightest notice being taken of my summons.

Sydney gave expression to his impatience in his own peculiar vein.

’Knockers in this part of the world seem intended for ornament only,—­nobody seems to pay any attention to them when they’re used.  The old lady upstairs must be either deaf or dotty.’  He went out into the road to see if she still was there.  ’She’s looking at me as calmly as you please,—­what does she think we’re doing here, I wonder; playing a tune on her front door by way of a little amusement?—­Madam!’ He took off his hat and waved it to her.  ’Madam! might I observe that if you won’t condescend to notice that we’re here your front door will run the risk of being severely injured!—­She don’t care for me any more than if I was nothing at all,—­sound another tattoo upon that knocker.  Perhaps she’s so deaf that nothing short of a cataclysmal uproar will reach her auditory nerves.’

She immediately proved, however, that she was nothing of the sort.  Hardly had the sounds of my further knocking died away than, throwing up the window, she thrust out her head and addressed me in a fashion which, under the circumstances, was as unexpected as it was uncalled for.