Page:Richard Marsh--The joss, a reversion.djvu/74

62 “Oh, Pollie, do you think there is? Perhaps it’s in the next room—perhaps that’s why the door is locked.”

“Perhaps so; and perhaps the key’s upstairs, waiting for us to come and find it. Anyhow we’ll go and see.”

When I rejoined Emily it struck me that she was not looking quite so happy as she might have done; as if the romance was not taking altogether the shape she either expected or desired. I led the way upstairs. There was a carpet on them; but by the illumination afforded by a guttering candle, it only needed a glance to see that, if you once took it up, you would probably never be able to put it down again—it would fall to pieces. We had hardly gone up half-a-dozen steps when there came a clitter-clatter from above. Emily, who was behind, caught me by the skirt.

“Pollie! Stop! Whatever’s that? There’s someone there!”

“Rats, most likely. In a house like this there are sure to be all sorts of agreeable things. Where there aren’t blackbeetles there are rats; and where there’s either there’s probably both.”

Rats it was. Before we had mounted another tread two or three came flying down, brushing against our skirts as they passed. You should have heard Emily scream.

“Don’t be silly,” I said, “You talk about liking romance, and you make all that fuss because of a rat or two.”

“It isn’t exactly that I’m afraid of them, but—they startled me so. I daresay I shan’t mind them when I’ve got used to them, only—I’ve got to get used to them first.”

She was likely to have every opportunity. Presently two or three more came down. They seemed be in a hurry. One, which was not looking where it was going, struck itself against my foot, and squeaked.