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 "Where is he?" he said, hardly raising his clear, carrying voice.

"In the landing," said Pollyooly.

"Then please drop me down my hat and stick, my angel watcher," said the Honorable John Ruffin.

Pollyooly made haste to drop them out of the window. He caught them deftly, slipped off his wig and gown, went to the porter's lodge, left them there and walked briskly out of the Tudor Street entrance. As he was passing out of sight, he waved a reassuring hand to his faithful sentinel.

At half-past four the red-nosed besieger, who had been waiting in a sinister silence, began to knock on the oak. At twenty-five minutes to five he was knocking firmly; at twenty minutes to five he was knocking wildly; at a quarter to five he seemed to have lost his temper, for he was interspersing violent, blows on the oak with even more violent kicks. At five minutes to five he went away. Pollyooly thought that they had done with him until to-morrow. She wronged his indefatigable soul; he was back again and hammering away at seven o'clock and again at eight. He may have returned later, just before the king's writ had ceased running its