plying—that he believed Miss Fanny and he played their cards pretty much alike; if he once stole diamonds, she stole hearts every day of her life. And thus sparring, the two thief-takers descended the ladder together.
At the foot of it, the cornet asked Dick if any thing could be done to repair the mischief of this night: did he think matters desperate?
“Desperate!” said Dick, “they never were in better train; leave Mr. Mule to me, sir, I’ll hoax him; precisely in nine minutes from this time I’ll have him well hoaxed.”
VIII.—FINALE.
Dick went in search of Mr. Mule: not finding him above stairs, he knew whereabouts Mr. Mule must be; though not in what precise corner, or what precise sack. Seeing one, however, more corpulent than the rest, he determined to satisfy his own doubts, whether this were a sack of mealy potatoes, by turning it upside down and shooting out the contents. As, however, he necessarily satisfied Mr. Mule at the same time that he himself was neither that ghost, nor that Johnny Raw he was looking for, that gentleman thankfully pocketed the affront.
In this piece of impertinence, which was the mere gratuitous overflow of Dick’s infamous love of fun, he lost precisely one minute and a half, so that he had but seven minutes and a half for his main villainy; which, however, he accomplished within the time, without at all distressing himself, and had three-quarters of a minute to spare.
He briefly revealed to Mr. Mule that Miss Fanny was a Somnambulist; this master-key unlocked all the mysteries of the night. She had walked out of her chamber-window, mounted the garden-wall, two coach-houses, three stables, six dwelling-houses, two churches, and was on the point of scaling the church-steeple”
“You don’t say so?”
“I do; I saw her scaling the church-steeple, when Mr. Lawler, thinking she might sprain her ancle in coming down, went up with a ladder—brought her down—and with the same ladder put her into the library-window.”
“This must be kept secret,” said Mr. Mule.
“It must, sir; it’s no recommendation to a wife. Amongst Miss Fanny’s many excellent qualifications for that character, somnambulism will never be counted one. I know it by myself; I should not like a wife myself, that got up from my side of nights to walk up the church-steeple. Mr. Lawler must be thanked.”
“He must, sir.” For both purposes Mr. Lawler was sent for.
