"The oak chests in the music-room--the great
Florentine coffer in the gallery? Have you looked in those?"
"Yes; we have opened every chest."
"Faith, to see Sir Denzil turn over piles of tapestries, you would have
thought he was looking for a fairy that could hide in the folds of a
curtain!" said Lettsome.
"It is no theme for jesting. I hate these tricks of hiding in strange
corners," said Fareham. "Now, show me where they left you."
"In the long gallery."
"They have gone up to the roof, perhaps."
"We have been in the roof," said Denzil.
"I have scarcely recovered my senses after the cracked skull I got from one
of your tie-beams," added Lettsome; and Fareham saw that both men had
their doublets coated with dust and cobwebs, in a manner which indicated a
remorseless searching of places unvisited by housemaids and brooms.
Mrs. Dorothy, with a due regard for her dainty lace kerchief and ruffles,
and her cherry silk petticoat, had avoided these loathly places, the abode
of darkness, haunted by the fear of rats.
Fareham tramped the house from cellar to garret, Denzil alone accompanying
him.
"We want no posse comitatus," he had said, somewhat discourteously.
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