He stared at this sight in dismay. The bird had apparently
flown, leaving no address, and he had taken his trip for nothing.
He pressed upon the electric bell; that is, he did this ultimately.
George was not accustomed to electric bells, indeed he had never seen
one before, and after attempting in vain to pull it with his fingers
(for he knew that it must be a bell because there was the word itself
written on it), as a last resource he condescended to try his teeth.
Ultimately, however, he discovered how to use it, but without result.
Either the battery had been taken away, or it was out of gear. Just as
he was wondering what to do next he made a discovery--the door was
slightly ajar. He pushed it and it opened--revealing a dirty hall,
stripped of every scrap of furniture. Entering, he shut the door and
walked up the stairs to the room whence he had fled after thrashing
Johnnie. Here he paused and listened, thinking that he heard somebody
in the room. Nor was he mistaken, for presently a well-remembered
voice shrilled out:
"Who's skulking round outside there? If it's one of those bailiffs
he'd better hook it, for there's nothing left here."
George's countenance positively beamed at the sound.
"Bailiffs, marm?" he called through the door--"it ain't no varminty
bailiffs, it's a friend, and just when you're a-wanting one seemingly.
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