Also the figure half-hidden by the
cupboard-door--was a female figure, massive, and in flowing robes,
Could it be the landlady? The door opened, and a strange man entered
the room.
"What is that donkey doing?" he said to himself, pausing, aghast,
on the threshold.
The lady, thus rudely referred to, was his wife. She had got one of
the cupboards open, and stood with her back to him, smoothing down a
sheet of brown paper on one of the shelves, and whispering to herself
"So, so! Deftly done! Craftily contrived!"
Her loving husband stole behind her on tiptoe, and tapped her on the
head. "Boh!" he playfully shouted at her ear. "Never tell me again I
ca'n't say 'boh' to a goose!"
My Lady wrung her hands. "Discovered!" she groaned. "Yet no--he is
one of us! Reveal it not, oh Man! Let it bide its time!"
"Reveal what not?" her husband testily replied, dragging out the sheet
of brown paper. "What are you hiding here, my Lady? I insist upon
knowing!"
My Lady cast down her eyes, and spoke in the littlest of little voices.
"Don't make fun of it, Benjamin!" she pleaded. "It's--it's---don't
you understand? It's a DAGGER!"
"And what's that for?" sneered His Excellency. "We've only got to make
people think he's dead! We haven't got to kill him! And made of tin,
too!" he snarled, contemptuously bending the blade round his thumb.
Now, Madam, you'll be good enough to explain. First, what do you call
me Benjamin for?"
"It's part of the Conspiracy, Love! One must have an alias, you know--"
"Oh, an alias, is it? Well! And next, what did you get this dagger for?
Come, no evasions! You ca'n't deceive me!"
"I got it for--for--for--" the detected Conspirator stammered,
trying her best to put on the assassin-expression that she had been
practising at the looking-glass.
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