Every minute is of
consequence. The light here, Miggs!'
'Yes yes, oh do! Go to bed directly,' cried the two women together.
Mr Tappertit stood upon his feet, and pushing his chair away to show
that he needed no assistance, answered, swaying himself to and fro, and
managing his head as if it had no connection whatever with his body:
'You spoke of Miggs, sir--Miggs may be smothered!'
'Oh Simmun!' ejaculated that young lady in a faint voice. 'Oh mim! Oh
sir! Oh goodness gracious, what a turn he has give me!'
'This family may ALL be smothered, sir,' returned Mr Tappertit, after
glancing at her with a smile of ineffable disdain, 'excepting Mrs V.
I have come here, sir, for her sake, this night. Mrs Varden, take this
piece of paper. It's a protection, ma'am. You may need it.'
With these words he held out at arm's length, a dirty, crumpled scrap of
writing. The locksmith took it from him, opened it, and read as follows:
'All good friends to our cause, I hope will be particular, and do no
injury to the property of any true Protestant. I am well assured that
the proprietor of this house is a staunch and worthy friend to the
cause.
GEORGE GORDON.'
'What's this!' said the locksmith, with an altered face.
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