Neglect hung visibly over house and court alike as the two captains
entered by the iron gate and looked around them with more trepidation
than they had ever displayed in action. Grass sprouted between the
pebbles and a greenish stain lay upon the flagstones. The drab
frontage was similarly streaked; dust and rain together had set a
crust upon the windows, and tufts of dark mossy grass again
flourished in the gutter-pipes beneath the eaves.
Surveying this desolation, Captain Jemmy uttered a grunt and Captain
John a "p'sh!" They fumbled in their pockets, drew out their two
letters, and moved to the blistered front-door. A bell-pull, as
rusty as the railings outside, depended by the jamb. Captain Jemmy
tugged at it. It was noteworthy that whenever any effort had to be
put forth, however small, the tall man stepped forward and the
hunchback looked on. It was Captain Jemmy, for instance, who had, a
moment before, pushed back the gate.
He had to tug thrice before a discordant bell sounded within the
house, and twice again before footsteps began to shuffle along the
passage.
A bolt was let down and the big door fell open, disclosing a small
serving-girl, who stared upon the visitors with round eyes.
"Is your mistress within?"
"Mistress Salt is within, sirs; but--"
"But what?"
"She--she can't see you!" The girl burst into tears.
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